#so for now they just... watch him and wait and try to keep an eye out for anything particularly worrying

[iamactuallysocute]

SAJA BOYS x HUNTR/X’S ASSISTANT!READER

PLOT: So here you are, the sweet little assistant to HUNTR/X. Not anything like Bobby, no. You’re the only human they let in on their secret of being hunters, and your job is to help them out the best you can. Fetching the weapons, patching up wounds, memorizing demon looking ppl, preferably without fighting because you’re ass at that. You’re smart, sweet, know what will the girls do next.

Which is exactly why the Saja Boys decided to kidnap your ass.

Oh, they still look like a wet dream, don’t get that twisted. But they deadass snatched you up because you know too much. You know how the girls work. You know where they’re going, what they’re planning, how to hurt them.

Except, you won’t talk. Not even when they tried. And oh, they tried. Little threats. Little games. Little moments that left bruises.

Now? You’re a guest in their fancy-fancy high-rise apartment in the human world that they have so they don’t have to go back and forth between worlds. More like their prisoner, but the fridge is stocked and you’re not chained anymore.

cw: implied female reader, kidnapping situation, a shit ton of cursing, Romance being a flirt, a boner, mentions of sex, Mystery being curious about your body, boys being boys and fucking with you

You stand at the sleek marble counter, a knife in your hand, slicing through a peach.

Behind you, Romance’s laugh fills the room, deep, as Mystery literally tackles him over the back of the couch. They hit the floor with a heavy thud, limbs tangled, and Mystery growls.

Romance? He’s grinning. Loving every second.

“Damn, if you wanted to get me on my back you could’ve just asked.” he purrs, voice smooth.

Mystery’s response is to sink his teeth—actually sink his teeth—into Romance’s shoulder.

“Fuck—ah, yes, harder!” Romance groans dramatically, shoving at Mystery’s face but clearly not trying to get him off.

You just keep cutting your peach, the juice sticky on your fingers.

Abby’s sprawled in an armchair, bouncing a stress ball off the wall hard enough you’re certain he’ll crack the plaster. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off his arms and his attention span is shot to shit. He’s been drumming his fingers, cracking his neck, muttering to himself about needing to do something.

Baby’s on the floor, cross-legged, looking at his phone what he grew to love so so so much since they figured it out. He actually looks like he has no idea what’s going on but doesn’t care anyway.

Jinu is in the kitchen, not far from you, sipping tea like none of this is happening. His hair’s still a little damp from a shower, and he looks… normal. Calm. Like he could be your neighbor, the guy who helps carry your groceries.

He notices you’re out of reach of the fruit bowl and slides it closer without a word.

“Thanks.” you mutter, not looking up.

Not forgetting that you fucking HATE his guts!!

“You’re welcome.”

And that’s the thing with Jinu. He’s nice. Too nice.

You slice another piece of peach. Try to pretend you don’t hear Romance moaning as Mystery bites him again.

Baby snorts quietly, still scrolling.

You just keep slicing fruit, silent, petty, waiting for the moment they let their guard down. Not happening.

Romance walks over eventually, leaning against the counter next to you. His scent hits you—fuck you in the ass it’s good. Why does it have to be good?

“Need help with that, angel?” he murmurs, voice like velvet, fingers brushing a piece of peach off your plate and popping it into his mouth.

You don’t look at him. “Fuck off.”

“Alrighty.”

He doesn’t move though.

Mystery, now perched on the arm of the couch, watches the two of you , you’d guess. You can’t see those fuckass eyes.

You remember the first meet.

God. The girls just finished, you gave them all the luxury they could ever need then went back to your apartment. Exhausted. Filthy. You got home, peeled off your clothes, stepped into that shower, and thought—finally. Finally, you could breathe.

Then, a bold whistle from behind you.

You turned your head, soap stinging your eyes, and there was….

Drumroll…

🥁🥁🥁

Romance.

Yes indeed, the fucker whistled.

You froze. Completely naked, completely vulnerable. He moved fast—too fast—hand over your mouth, body pressed up to the shower glass.

“Don’t scream. We’re just gonna have a little chat.”

You wanted to kick him. You really did. But he had you pinned, all casual, like this was just another Tuesday for him.

“Options.” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek like he was trying to soothe you. “You tell me what I wanna know. Or—and I like this one better—I take you with me.”

You glared at him. You hated him.

(Since your girls did too and know he’s a demon but anyway)

But what could you do? Naked, trapped, outmatched. So you nodded. Let him hand you a towel. Let him grin when you dressed in whatever you could grab. Let him walk you out of your own damn apartment like he was your date for the night.

You snap back to now, slicing that peach a little too hard. The knife hits the cutting board with a sharp thunk.

Romance notices. Of course he notices. He always notices.

“Careful, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.” he teases, snagging another piece of fruit from your plate like he has every right.

You don’t answer. Just cut another slice, the peach juice sticky on your fingers.

Then there was the time you tried to run.

You’d waited until late. Until they were sprawled out, arguing over anything, distracted by their own bullshit. You’d crept to the door, so quiet. Almost made it.

Baby caught you. Not with strength. With a simple:

“Hm?”

And then Jinu was there. Calm. Closing the door gently. Taking your arm, leading you back.

“Don’t do that, okay?” he’d said, as if you’d just made a small mistake. Like it wasn’t a big fucking deal.

Romance had clapped you on the back when you were forced to sit back down. “A+ for effort, though.”

Slice. Slice. Another piece of peach.

Mystery’s watching you now. Not saying anything, just watching. His head tilted, into your direction.

You finish slicing the peach. Set the knife down.

Romance steals another piece, grinning at you over it.

Mystery growls under his breath at the whole thing.

Abby’s already forgotten about you, too busy flicking Baby’s ear to annoy him.

Jinu’s watching you quietly, you’d guess. Don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

You remember that time you bit Romance.

God, the nerve of him. You were done—so done—with him always getting too close.

D-O-N-E.

That time, when he cornered you to get things out of you. “C’mon, angel, just tell me a little secret. Just one. I’ll owe you.” He’d said. “You’re so tense. I can help with that…”

And you just snapped. Lunged in and bit his arm as hard as you could.

And the fucker?

The fuck?

He winked at you.

Didn’t pull away. Didn’t cuss you out. Just grinned like you’d given him a gift. “Easy, girl.” he said, voice low, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of him. “Didn’t know you liked it rough.”

You wanted to scream. Instead, you glared and tried to yank free, and he let you—only because he felt like it. Not because you could have escaped him.

You organize the little peaches on your plate. They looked quite cute.

You tried to stand your ground once.

Told Abby to back off, to leave you alone. And what did he do?

He laughed. That easy, bright, warm laugh like you’d just told him a joke. Then he slung his arm around your shoulders and practically dragged you down the hall like you were his best bud.

“You’re funny as hell.” he said, ruffling your hair like you weren’t glaring daggers at him. “C’mon.”

Asshole.

“Where you think you’re going, superstar?” he’d teased last time, when you made it to the elevator and thought, for one sweet second, you were free.

You’d fought. Kicked. Swore.

And he’d just laughed, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. Carried you back down the hall like you were some drunk friend at a party, not a prisoner.

“C’mon now. You know you’re not going anywhere. Let’s not make it weird.”

Baby shifts where he’s sitting, lazy as ever, glancing up from his phone just long enough to take a sassy look at you.

Then there was time they played good cop/bad cop on you.

Mystery had you cornered in the kitchen. Not even saying anything—just standing there, too close. You’d tried to sidestep him. He’d mirrored the move, blocking you without touching.

And then Romance walked in. All relaxed, all casual. Slid in between you and Mystery, arm around your waist like it was his right.

“Ease up.” he said to Mystery, but his hand tightened on your side. “She’s not gonna run. Are you, angel?”

You bite into a piece of peach now.

Or there’s the night you tried to lock yourself in a room.

Abby broke the door down. Just… busted it open like it was made of cardboard.

“Don’t do that, babe.” he said, happy af, picking you up like you weighed nothing and carrying you back to the main room. “You’re gonna make us feel bad, hiding like that.”

You’d pounded at his chest. Tried to fight.

And he’d just laughed again, so warm, so easy, like you were play-wrestling.

You put the cutting board back, close the cabinet a little too hard.

There are also mind games. Oh, the fucking mind games.

Like how Jinu always helps. Always so polite, so considerate. Slips a glass of water into your hand when you’re too angry to ask. Pulls out a chair for you. Puts a blanket over you when you fall asleep

(and yeah, you pretended to be asleep that time. sue you, you were cold).

And it gets in your head. Makes you second-guess your hate. Makes you wonder if maybe he’d let you go if you just asked nicely enough. Makes you forget, for a second, that he’s the one who seals the doors behind you.

Or how Baby never speaks to you unless it’s to cut you down.

That time you begged, just once, just quietly, just to Baby because the others were too busy fucking around, you asked him to help you slip out.

And he’d looked at you. Just looked. And smiled that tiny, mean smile of his.

“Cute that you think anyone here gives a fuck what you want.”

Yeah, when he doesn’t currently not give a fuck about what’s happening around him, this is what you’ll get of him. Allat pretty face is a waste, fr.

You wipe down the counter, scrubbing too hard, like you can erase their fingerprints from your space.

And Mystery.

Mystery, who’s so feral you almost thought you could use that. That maybe he was the weak link. That maybe his violence meant he didn’t care about the plan, that he’d let you go just to spite the others.

But no.

Like the time you tried to sneak a phone off the coffee table, thinking no one was looking.

Mystery had crossed the room in a blink, snatched it out of your hand, and grabbed your jaw so fast your ears rang.

His nails had pricked your skin. His breath had been hot, his growl low.

“Don’t.”

One word. That’s all. And then he let go like you were nothing. Like you didn’t even matter enough to punish.

You open the fridge, shove the plate in, close it again like the slam of the door can drown out the noise in your head.

You turn, walk closer to them in the living room so you look more genuine, sweet like sugar because you can’t help it. That’s just how you sound.

“Can I use the sauna?” you ask.

No one says anything for half a beat.

Jinu the asshole the FUCKING asshole hums. “In exchange for some information, you know. Tell us a thing or two.”

You groan. Actually groan. And before you can stop yourself, you do the tiniest, most frustrated little kick at the air. Just a flick of your foot, like you’re trying to shake off the annoyance. Just a little kick. Adorable, really. A stupid, tiny burst of frustration because this is so fucking unfair and they know it.

And that’s when Abby, quick, grabs your leg mid-kick.

“Gotcha.” he says, voice bright. And the worst part? He doesn’t even look at you. He’s already turned back to whatever dumb shit they’re talking about, your ankle resting in his grip.

And now you’re there, balancing on one foot, arms out a little to steady yourself.

“Abby—let go—!”

But he’s not paying you any mind. His fingers loose but firm around your ankle, like he could crush it if he felt like it, but he’s just holding it.

As if you’re some toy he forgot he was playing with. Fucking asshole.

Romance sees the opportunity immediately. He slides closer, slow, a finger tapping at your knee, then your thigh, all innocent and infuriating. “Look at you. One foot. So talented.”

You swat at him, trying to push him away, but that just makes him laugh.

Mystery, meanwhile, is staring at your leg. Head tilted, curious. Like he can’t decide if he wants to pounce on it or just… study it. It’s been a while since he’s seen a human girl this close. That’s obvious in the way his gaze lingers too long on the shape of your calf, the flex of your foot as you wobble.

Baby is absolutely checking out your ass.

Not even trying to hide it.

One glance over his phone, those eyes sliding down, a little smirk ghosting at the corner of his mouth before he looks back at his screen like he’s the innocent one here.

You hop a little, trying to tug your leg free, still balancing awkwardly. “Abby—seriously!”

But Abby just laughs, chatting with Jinu, your leg still in his grip.

Romance pokes at you again. This time at your side, grinning when you squirm. “Careful, sweetheart. You’ll fall and hurt yourself.”

You try to stomp your other foot, frustrated beyond words, but you’re already jumping on one leg, and that just makes all of them snicker.

“Abby!”

“Hmm?” His voice is unbothered, eyes still not on you. “Oh. Right. Forgot I was holding you.”

Liar.

“Nah, c’mon—tell us a secret.” Abby says.

You tug.

He doesn’t budge.

“Abby.” you hiss.

But it’s useless.

Romance pokes you in the side, fascinated by the way your curves move.

“Stop it—” you try to swat at him, but you’re too busy trying not to fall flat on your ass.

Romance laughs, brushing your hand aside easily. His fingers brush your free ankle lightly, just to mess with you, and you nearly lose your balance again.

“Seriously, let go.” you snap, hopping on your one foot, trying to twist free.

But Abby’s grip is firm, not tight enough to hurt, just impossible to break.

He still isn’t looking at you. Instead, he’s grinning at Romance. “Hey, look at this—” he lifts your foot slightly, turning it in his hand like he’s inspecting it “—her foot’s like half the size of yours.”

Romance, of course, is lining his foot up next to yours while you’re still caught there, balancing. His grin is all teeth. “Tiny.” he says, delighted.

You’re burning up with embarrassment now, face hot, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons. You’re jumping a little, trying to shake your foot loose, but all it does is make Romance poke at you more, fingers brushing your calf, your ankle, your side.

“Stop it!” you snap, swatting at him, but you can’t even aim right on one foot.

Baby doesn’t even hide it anymore. He leans back, arms crossed, eyes flicking between your legs, your ass, your face, enjoying every second of this humiliation.

“Alright, c’mon now.” Abby says, finally glancing at you. “Give us a little intel, and you can go steam yourself all you want.”

You’re about to lose your balance for real—arms flailing slightly, heel of your standing foot sliding on the polished floor—when finally, finally, Jinu’s voice cuts through the mess.

“You can use the sauna.” he says simply, with a small nod, like it should’ve been obvious all along.

“There you go, superstar.” Abby lets go, laughing under his breath as if this was all in good fun. You stumble, catch yourself on the couch, heart pounding, face flushed.

Romance grins, hands up like he’s innocent. “See? All you had to do was ask.”

Baby smirks, looking back down at his phone as if he wasn’t just ogling you.

Mystery sinks back onto the couch arm, still watching, but at least he isn’t about to lunge anymore.

You straighten, brushing your hands down your sides, trying to regain a scrap of dignity.

“Thanks.” you mutter, shooting a glare at the rest of them before turning on your heel and heading toward the sauna.

Romance leans back, hands up like he’s innocent. “Enjoy yourself, angel.”

Baby gives you one last look, and Mystery’s head follows you until you’re out of reach.

You huff, fixing your clothes, dignity in shambles as you stomp toward the sauna.

God, you hate them.

God, they’re fucking hilarious.

God, you hate that you almost laughed too.

Alright, so there you are. Finally. Finally in the sauna.

You thought maybe—maybe—you could steal this one small victory. After all the shit they put you through, the teasing, the games, the constant pushing and pulling, you’d gotten away.

The heat envelops you, thick, fogging up the glass as you sit there, knees tucked up, towel clutched tight to your chest.

Your heartbeat’s just starting to slow. Your breathing evens out. The sweat begins to bead at your temples, trickle down your neck, and for a blissful minute, you think:

peace.

And then.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You freeze. Eyes snap to the glass door.

Abby and Romance.

Side by side, standing just outside the sauna with the most shit-eating grins you’ve ever seen.

And god help you,

they’re in nothing but towels.

Romance has his slung low on his hips, arms crossed behind his head. Like he knew what this would do to you. His eyes meet yours through the steam, and his grin somehow widens.

Abby’s hitched up carelessly at his waist, and he’s leaning against the glass with both hands, forehead pressed against it, breathing patterns making little clouds on the surface.

And because he’s Abby and he’s got no shame, he leans in further until his abs are smushed up against the glass too, leaving perfect imprints of his ridiculous physique.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Romance’s knuckle on the door this time, slow and rhythmic, like they’ve got all the time in the world.

These bastards have nothing but time. And you? You’re the best entertainment they’ve had in centuries. Three hundred years of whatever suffering Gwi-ma put them through, until you.

And you can tell. You can see it in their faces, the way they’re lit up like kids on Christmas morning. The way they’re making a game out of this. The way they’re not just keeping you prisoner, they’re enjoying every second of it, like you’re their favorite new toy.

“Baby girl.” Romance calls, voice muffled through the glass, drawing the words out like a slow melody. He knocks again, forehead resting against the glass, leaning down a little so his eyes are level with yours. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

(Guys I don’t mean baby girl in a weird way I promiseeeee)

Abby starts whining. Full-on whining, dragging out the vowels like he’s the one being tortured here.

“Pleeeaaaseee. Let us in. Don’t hog all the steam. You know it’s rude.”

Your grip on your towel tightens. You shake your head, glaring, but that just seems to make them more determined.

Romance is flattening his palms against the glass, leaning his weight forward, so casual.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” he purrs. “It’s not safe to sauna alone. What if you pass out? What if you get too hot?” His voice drops lower, dripping with mock concern. “We’d hate for something bad to happen to you.”

You point at them through the foggy glass. “Stay out.”

They’re having the time of their lives.

Abby’s face is smushed against the door now, nose flattened, grinning so hard you can see the crinkle of his eyes even through the fog. He slides down slightly so his chest presses up too, leaving an actual print on the glass that you’re sure you’ll see in your nightmares.

“Come oooonnnn.” he drags out, hands sliding down the glass with exaggerated despair. “It’s lonely out here. It’s cold.”

“Yeah.” Romance chimes in, knocking his knuckles lightly again, rhythm playful. “So cold. We’re shivering.”

Neither of them looks the least bit cold. They look like gods, golden and gleaming in the low light, all muscle.

Abby presses his forehead right next to Romance’s, their faces squished together, two idiots united in their mission to annoy the living shit out of you. His abs are still plastered to the glass, leaving sweaty smudges in their shape.

Romance starts dragging out words like he’s dying of heartbreak. “Weeeee just waaaant to reeeelaaax.”

And then, before you can stop it, the door creaks open.

Romance’s hand is already on the handle. Abby’s pushing through behind him, grinning.

“You—” you start, clutching your towel tighter, scooting back like that’s going to help.

Romance plops down way too close, towel barely clinging on, stretching his long legs out. He leans back, hands braced behind him, turning his head to look at you with that maddening, lazy smile.

Abby flops down on your other side, sighing like he’s just found heaven, spreading out. He stretches his arms up, rolls his shoulders, all muscle.

“This is much better.” Abby says cheerfully.

“Yeah.” Romance agrees, eyes glinting with as he studies you, watching the way you clutch your towel like it’s the only thing saving your dignity. “See? Cozy.”

You glare at them both, heart hammering so loud you’re sure they can hear it over the hiss of the steam.

“You could’ve waited.” you mutter, trying to inch away without actually standing and risking… well, anything.

Romance leans in slightly, close enough that you can see the bead of sweat trailing down his temple, the curve of his smirk.

Then, these assholes giggle.

Giggle.

Big, strong, terrifying demons who could rip a man apart in seconds, sitting on either side of you, legs sprawled, water dripping down their ridiculously perfect bodies—and giggling like schoolgirls who just found a crush’s diary.

Romance leans forward, glancing at Abby, his grin wide and boyish and so fucking irritating. His hair’s still damp, little droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching in the hollow of his throat before disappearing below that towel hanging far too low on his hips.

Abby snorts, eyes crinkling, that same big, bright grin that makes it impossible to stay mad at him for long—no matter how much you want to. He’s got one arm thrown over the back of the bench.

“I feel relaxed already.” Abby teases, voice low and warm.

And the giggling starts again. Little bursts of it, like they can’t believe their luck.

You press your back against the wall, eyes narrowed, clutching your towel so hard you might leave permanent wrinkles in the fabric. You feel the heat rising higher in your cheeks now, but it’s not from the sauna.

Because they’re close. So close you can feel the heat coming off them, not just the sauna’s heat but theirs. Like being caught between two furnaces.

Fuck them.

And they’re not just sitting there politely, minding their business. Oh no. Their gazes slide over you, undressing you with their eyes without a single ounce of shame.

Romance lets his gaze drop, lazily, from your flushed face to the slope of your shoulders, down the curve of your towel-clad body, he’s imagining exactly what’s under there. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

His mouth quirks up at the corner like he’s thoroughly enjoying the view.

Abby’s no better. His eyes trace you all the same. Like he’s taking mental snapshots, adding to whatever collection of moments he’s tucking away for the next time he’s bored at 3 a.m.

And it’s not subtle.

They’d hit that. No question. In a heartbeat.

Hell, Romance would have you against the sauna wall the second you blinked yes—if you blinked yes. The man has no shame. His lust, so open, so easy, it’s like breathing to him.

But that’s the thing about Romance—he knows the difference. Knows the difference between wanting to get you under him and wanting something real.

And somehow, that second thing? That’s creeping in now, too.

It’s not just the game anymore. Not just the fun of teasing you, seeing how red they can make you go, seeing how long they can keep you flustered before you snap.

It’s that you feel different.

You’re not like the other fleeting amusements they’ve found across centuries of boredom and bloodshed. You’re not just a pretty face they can toy with until it breaks.

You’re the most fun they’ve had in so long they’ve almost forgotten what fun is.

It’s growing. Quietly, steadily, in between all the teasing.

Romance, for all his shameless flirting, knows it too. His desire’s loud, sure, but this other feeling? This is different. It’s not about the chase, or the win, or the thrill of the moment. It’s about the way his heart kicks up when you roll your eyes at him, when you snap back, when you don’t fold.

And Abby? He’s the same. He laughs and plays and pokes, but somewhere in the cracks, something real’s settling in.

Something that isn’t just about keeping entertained.

You’re fun. You’re alive.

And in their endless stretch of centuries, that’s fun.

Because now, it’s not just about keeping you around for what you know.

Now, it’s about keeping you around because they want you around.

All those feelings for them, while just now, you had enough. Enough.

So you stand.

You push yourself up off the bench, clutching your towel, heart pounding, cheeks blazing, ready to make your exit.

But the second you straighten, the second you think you’ve reclaimed a scrap of dignity, Abby decides otherwise.

Big, warm hands catch your wrist and waist at once, and before you can so much as yelp, he drags you right back down into his lap.

“Ah-ah. Where you goin’, babe?” he says, voice all smooth, like you’re a kitten trying to escape bath time. His grin’s wide, eyes sparkling with that boyish light that makes you want to slap him and maybe kiss him just to wipe it off his face.

And there you are—your much smaller frame hauled back against him, towel still clutched to your chest, your legs draped awkwardly over his, skin burning where it meets his.

You squirm.

You kick and wiggle and slap at his arms, trying to peel yourself free, but it’s like fighting a brick wall that laughs at you.

“Let me go!” you snap, voice high with frustration, but you might as well be shouting at the wind.

Because Abby’s laughing now. Genuinely laughing, head tipped back a little, like this is the funniest shit he’s seen in decades.

Romance is no better. He’s doubled over, palm slapping the bench, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. That rich, boyish sound fills the sauna, echoing off the wood, making your cheeks burn hotter.

You kick again, trying to shove at Abby’s chest, trying to slide off his lap, but he’s holding you tight, like it’s nothing.

Abby leans in a little, his grin crooked now, voice low and warm, the kind of tone that makes you want to hide.

“You’re makin’ this real hard for me, sweetheart.” he says, and there’s no mistaking the double meaning.

Your heart lurches.

And, oh—you feel it. You definitely feel it.

Right there, under you.

A huge fucking boner.

And instead of stopping—instead of being sensible—you kick more. You squirm harder. Your face is on fire, but you’re determined to break free, determined to make him pay for putting you in this position, even if it’s making everything so much worse.

Abby groans low in his throat, but it’s laced with laughter, like he knows exactly what you’re doing and loves it. Loves that you’re trying. Loves that you’re flustered and mad and completely powerless.

Romance is laughing so hard he can’t sit upright, folding over himself, practically wheezing, tears streaming down his cheeks, pointing at you both like he can’t believe how lucky he is to witness this.

You give one more valiant wiggle, slap at Abby’s arm, and finally—finally—he lets go. Though maybe because he’s too worked up to keep playing

“Alright, alright.” he says, laughing, lifting his hands in surrender. “You win, babe. Go on.”

You shoot up like your life depends on it, clutching your towel so tight your fingers ache, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, chest heaving. You glare down at both of them, cheeks blazing, trying to regain a shred of dignity.

Abby is the picture of innocence now. One leg up to hide his hard on, arms draped across the back of the bench, looking for all the world like he’s just a guy enjoying a sauna and not someone who just very nearly got dry-humped into oblivion by a squirming, furious human girl.

But of course, the second you’re upright, Romance leans forward, grinning wickedly, fingers grabbing for the edge of your towel.

“Just one little peek.” he says, and his hand shoots out, fingers hooking the edge of your towel.

You shriek, twisting away just in time, slapping his hands, stumbling toward the door. The towel stays on—thank god—but barely.

Romance collapses back onto the bench, grinning, breathless from laughing.

“Worth a shot.” he teases, voice low and sinful. “Next time, angel.”

You don’t look back. You can’t. You’re too busy marching toward the door, heart hammering, body burning, swearing to yourself you’ll never trust a sauna again.

And behind you, the sound of their laughter chases you all the way out.

You storm out of that sauna, towel clutched so tight it’s a wonder you haven’t shredded it by sheer force of will. Your heart’s hammering in your chest, skin blazing from more than just the steam, and you’re done. Done with Abby’s lap. Done with Romance’s bullshit. Done with them probably high fiving each other as you’re walking. Done with all of it.

You stomp barefoot across the marble floors, steam still rising from your skin, water droplets trailing behind you.

And then you hit the living room.

Jinu’s perched on the edge of the couch, looking every bit the composed, gentlemanly demon he always pretends to be—except for the fact that his eyes widen ever so slightly at the sight of you. His lips twitch at the corners, like he’s trying not to smile.

“You went in there with clothes on.” he says, voice mild. “I’m pretty sure of it.”

You don’t even slow down. You wave a hand at him, dismissive, furious, embarrassed beyond belief but way too stubborn to show it.

“Not now, Jinu.”

“Just pointing it out.” he says, and you can hear that gentle, teasing lilt in his voice now that somehow makes it worse. Like he’s the only one in this house capable of being nice to you, but he still can’t help poking at you when you’re like this.

You glance down just in time to see Mystery crouched slightly, head tilted, attention fixed on the hem of your towel.

His hand twitches, like he’s fighting the urge to just lift it and satisfy his curiosity.

“Mystery—”

You swat at him, fast, instinctive. Like shooing off a cat who’s about to knock over a glass.

He tries again.

“Mystery or whatever your fucking name is!”

Your voice pitches higher. You swat at him again, and this time he dodges.

Baby’s watching the whole thing from the arm of the couch, shoulders shaking as he laughs quietly.

You and Mystery keep up this ridiculous dance—him darting, trying to sneak a look, you batting him off.

Every time you think you’ve shaken him, he circles back around, silent, predatory.

“Mystery, stop it!” you hiss, stomping your foot, cheeks burning so hot you’re sure they must be glowing.

He actually listens. Pulls back just a bit, but not before giving you this tilt of his head—this weird, almost innocent curiosity, like he really, genuinely wants to know what’s up there. Not because he’s trying to be a creep. Just because he’s Mystery.

He leans back, hands up, like he was just wondering, like you can’t blame a guy for being curious.

You tug your towel tighter, shooting him a glare that promises violence if he tries it again.

Baby just tips his head back and laughs, soft and delighted.

You storm the rest of the way across the living room, muttering curses under your breath, knowing full well this won’t be the last time they pull this shit.

Because why would it be?

You’re the best fun they’ve had in centuries.

You slam the door to your room shut with more force than necessary, your heart still thundering in your chest.

The room’s quiet now. Blessedly quiet.

You take a deep breath, forcing your legs to move, crossing to the dresser where they’d dumped your things they got from there and there. You let the towel drop, pulling on fresh clothes.

But as you tug your shirt down and run a hand through your damp hair, the questions start creeping in.

Will you ever get out of here?

…Maybe.

You want to believe it. That there’s a crack in their plan, a way to slip past their too-quick hands. That somehow, the girls will come for you. That you’ll find your moment and take it. But looking at how they watch you, how they enjoy keeping you close? It’s hard to be sure.

Do the girls miss you?

Yes.

They have to. You’re not just some assistant with a clipboard and a coffee order. You’re the one who kept them safe, who watched their backs when they were too busy saving the world to watch their own. They have to notice you’re gone. Right?

Do the boys actually like you as a person?

Yes.

And that’s the most confusing part. Because it’s not just the teasing, the poking, they see you. Under all the sweet voice, the petty little kicks, the glares and the stubbornness, they see you. And somehow, they like what they see.

Is Romance always trying to get in your pants?

Yes.

But he also respects the game. And maybe, just maybe, he likes more than just what’s under your clothes.

Does Abby really think you’re cute when you fight him off?

Yes.

You see it in his smile, in the way his eyes soften when you kick and squirm and glare up at him.

Is Baby secretly rooting for you?

Absolutely so fucking yes.

He won’t say it. Won’t even crack more than that smirk. But you catch it, sometimes—in the tilt of his head, in the glint of his eye. He enjoys you. Enjoys watching you give them hell.

Is Mystery curious about you in ways he doesn’t understand?

Indeed.

It’s in every glance, every tilt of his head, every quiet lean-in. You’re new, he likes it.

Does Jinu really care?

Yeah.

The only one who treats you normally. The one who talks to you like you’re a person. The one who always seems to step in right before the others push you too far.

Are you actually safe here?

No.

Not really. Not from their games, their teasing, their endless curiosity about what makes you break. Not from the way they make your heart race, in anger or fear or something more dangerous you don’t want to name.

Are you in danger of falling for them, even a little?

…Maybe.

You flop onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, clothes rumpled and hair still damp, wondering how the hell you’re going to survive this. Wondering how you’re going to keep yourself from softening toward them when they look at you like that, when they laugh like that, when they treat you like this.

Will you ever stop hoping for a chance to escape?

No.

Not ever. Not even if they keep making you laugh when you shouldn’t. Not even if they’re the most fun you’ve ever had.

You’re getting out.

Somedays

But god—if they don’t make it hard to want to leave.

You lay there on that stupid, too-nice bed, staring up at the ceiling, the city lights leaking in through the blinds, casting stripes across your skin. And you think—fuck.

Because damn your empathy.

You should hate them. Every single one of them. For snatching you away from your life. For laughing at you when you fight back. For treating you like a kid. You should be plotting their downfall, hating the sound of their voices, the way they look at you, the way they keep you here.

But you don’t. Not really. Not deep down where it matters.

Because it hits you, lying there with your heart still racing and your body still warm from the sauna

They probably don’t know any better anymore.

It’s probably been hundreds of years since they had anything like this. Since they saw their mothers. Since they were boys, real boys, not demons, playing at being human on a stage with bright lights and screaming fans.

When was the last time they got tucked in at night, you wonder. When was the last time somebody made them soup when they were sick?

When was the last time they did human shit?

Jumped on a trampoline, if they ever had done that.

Had a snowball fight.

Built a fort and camped out in it.

Splashed each other in a pool until they were breathless with laughter, not because they were trying to drown each other but just because it was fun.

Ran barefoot through wet grass on a summer night, chasing bugs.

Sat on a rooftop with their best friend, eating about the future like it was some big, beautiful thing waiting for them.

The last time someone baked them a birthday cake and sang to them, even off-key?

God, when was the last time they had that?

You think about Romance, all charm and heat, with that constant flirt in his voice—when was the last time someone kissed him because they loved him, not because they were enchanted by his face?

You think about Abby, always teasing, strong enough to crush you but never does—when was the last time someone hugged him just because?

Baby, with not giving a fuck at anything—when was the last time someone gave him something with no strings attached?

Mystery. Ferocious, curious—when was the last time he felt safe enough to just exist?

Jinu. The only one who looks at you like you’re still a person, like maybe he remembers what it felt like to be one, too—when was the last time someone sat with him in silence, not because they wanted something but just because they liked him?

And you feel that damn softness bloom in your chest, that aching empathy that’s going to get you killed or worse.

Because you don’t blame them. Not really.

They’re lonely.

Lonely in a way you can’t even imagine, in a way that sinks into your bones and makes you hungry for anything real.

You’re not just a hostage, not really—not to them. You’re a spark of humanity in their endless dark, and they don’t want to let go.

And yeah, it’s selfish. It’s cruel, in its way. But can you really hate them for it?

Can you hate them for wanting to keep you close when the world left them behind centuries ago?

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face, trying to shove the thoughts away, trying to remind yourself—they kidnapped you. They’re using you. They’re playing with you because it entertains them.

But still.

You see the way they look at you when they think you’re not paying attention.

You see the way they light up when you kick back, when you glare, when you curse them out, when you fight—because maybe you’re the first thing in forever that’s real to them.

And goddamn it, you understand.

You don’t forgive. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But you understand.

Boys who laugh too hard when you fight them off because they don’t know how else to show they like you.

So yeah.

Fuck your empathy.

Because you see them. And you can’t unsee it.

[promiscuousg1rl]

rich girl ― Rafe Cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

warnings: reader is rich and bitchy, rafe is an undercover thirstbucket.

You'd been in the outer banks for all of five seconds and you were already bored. Your father's reasoning for dragging you and your mother along to meet his new business partner was completely lost on you but there you were.

The minute you met Ward Cameron you knew he was nothing but a suck up. Doting over your father as if he were his biggest fan, a groupie. "Your Forbes Magazine interview was one of the most excellent pieces I've read in years." "Your eye for architectural design is truly admirable." You knew his type. You hated his type.

And his son? Even worse.

Stereotypical country club trust fund loser with a god-awful superiority complex. It showed in the way he smirked as he introduced himself, offering to buy you a drink as his weirdo friends watched from the other side of the room. It made it all the more satisfying when you declined. You'd never seen someone's face fall so quickly.

You truly thought he'd take the hint and leave you alone. Maybe go report back to the goon squad with a lie in order to avoid embarrassment and a bigger hit to his ego. Wishful thinking.

"So," the southern drawl was like nails on a chalkboard. "How are you liking it here so far?"

Pulling your lips away from your martini glass, face stuck in the same blank expression it's been in since your arrival. "It's boring and the entire town smells like salty swamp water."

Rafe frowns.

"I....I guess I can see why you'd think that."

You hum, continuing to observe the party-goers around you. For it to be an event for the creme-de la-creme of Kildare, the attendees don't seem to look the part. It's not as surprising as it is disappointing.

"Your, uh, your dad tells me you're gonna be spending your summer in town. Maybe I can show you around, take you to all our hot spots."

The warning your mother always gives you about rolling your eyes so hard they'll get stuck falls on deaf ears as you do exactly that.

"Those hotspots being this country club and the gator ridden marshes you guys love to get wasted at? No thanks."

His frown gets deeper as he pauses, staring you down with narrowed eyes. "You know, I see what you're doing."

"Excuse me?"

It almost gives you whiplash with a headache to match as that insufferable smirk comes back.

"This whole uninterested shtick you got goin' on." He huffs. "It's a total facade you rich city girls like to pull to play hard to get. You almost had me fooled."

With a sigh you sit your glass down on the bar and turn to face him. "First of all, there is no facade. And second, I am not trying to fool you. I don't even like you. Just because your small town country club groupies find you and that crumb of coke under your nose attractive, doesn't mean I do."

"Aw keep goin' baby, you're only getting me more and more hard."

You scoff. "And now I'll add pervert to your long list of flaws."

"Flaws?"

"Yes," you nod with a mocking look of concern. "You have about a million, your dad actually warned us about them."

The mentioning of his father causes him to completely falter. "Wait, seriously?"

No.

"Yes and if I were you, I'd focus more on the fact that if you don't help him close this deal with my father tonight, he'll be tossing your ass for what he says will be the fiftieth time."

Just as he opens his mouth to probably curse you out in the worse way possible, Ward's voice finds its way over to the two of you.

"Rafe," he and his wife Rose stand side by side with your parents, champagne glasses in hand. "Why don't you come here for a sec, Mr. l/n has a couple of questions for ya."

Suddenly you're the one who's smirking. "You'd better go, daddy's boy. Let's see if you still have a home to go to by the end of the night."

[em1i2a3]

Soak Up The Sun

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and the team are on vacation in Mexico–Val’s treat for staying out of trouble–and Bob ends up getting a brutal sunburn after refusing to wear sunscreen.

Warnings: Just pure fluff here, Descriptions of Sunburns, Bob is in pain in this one (bros please wear SUNSCREEN) Bob and Reader are in an established relationship, Bob’s a bit sassy in this lol.

Author’s Note: In keeping up with the theme of being in scorching hot climates, I decided that this would be a great little blurb to do! I just found it to be a nice little thing to release and write as a little break from my Bob Floyd fic today. I loved writing this little thing and adored the little hint of sassy Bob I decided to throw in there cause the man does have some sass I think. I can’t wait to post my next thing tomorrow, I’m so excited for it! Cause on Friday we’ve got another crazy double update circuit and I cannot wait!

Word Count: 2,856

“Bob…” Your voice was low, a plea edged with exasperation as you leaned one hip against the dresser, sunscreen bottle in hand, “Please…You’re literally going to scorch. I forgot to reapply yesterday and I literally felt my skin cooking. I could’ve sworn I smelled burning flesh.”

From across the hotel room, Bob groaned like you were asking him to give up his freedom instead of just–god forbid–apply a thin layer of SPF. He was standing near the sliding door that led to the balcony, the golden morning sun caught the tousled edges of his damp light brown locks. His thin cover up–white linen, of course–hung open and loose over his chest, clinging slightly where his skin was still warm from the shower you both took. His swim trunks were a deep navy, already wrinkled from him sitting cross-legged on the bed earlier trying to fix the drawstrings so they were even.

His bare chest–pale in all it’s glory–was on full display, freckled and defenseless. And still, he had the audacity to shrug lazily and say “My skin is us–used to the sun. I’ll be fine Y/N.” You stared at him with wide eyes, absolutely aghast by what he had just said.

”Used to the sun?” You repeated, “Bob…My love…Light of my life…The only thing your skin is used to right now is fluorescent lighting and being covered by hoodies, long sleeved shirts, and sweaters year–round…This isn’t New York.” He scratched the back of his neck, his face turning a blush red from all the things you had just called him, clearly trying not to grin, and slowly you watched his eyes soften. It was the look he always gave to you when he wanted to entice you for a kiss–or for when he wanted to convince you to let him do what he wanted.

”Bob. Don’t give me that look. You’re really going to end up getting burned. Put the damn sunscreen on.” He raised his hands as if he was surrendering, but instead he took a step towards the hotel room door.

“Y/N…I’ll be fi–fine. I’m just going to be an hour or two…Maybe less.” You advanced a single step towards him,

“Robert.” You said sternly, which made his lips quirk up into a smile.

”Ou…Using my fu–full name now…We're getting serious hmm?” You squinted at him.

“You’re pushing it.” You warned, still following his movements. You kept your distance, calculating your angle. If you needed to tackle him, you’d need room for a solid launch. The carpet was thick, cushioned enough to minimize injury. Bob’s eyes flicked nervously to your stance, and you knew he saw it too–the calculation behind your silence. You saw his hand move to rest subtly on the doorknob behind him, fingers curling around it slowly.

“I will literally tackle you to the ground in the middle of the damn resort if you don’t protect your skin.” Your voice dropped into dangerous territory. Low. Even. With just enough heat to make his brow glisten.

Bob paused. His hand froze on the handle, knuckles paling.

“Va–Val won’t appreciate us getting into trouble here…” He started, slowly. “Remember sh–she booked this trip for the team so that we could unwind and relax… If we get shipped back to New York for–for stirring things up, Val isn’t going to be happy.”

You arched a brow, stalking closer.

“You know who she really won’t be happy with?” You asked, voice sharp as cracked ice. “You, if you come back looking like the color of Elmo, Bob.”

He groaned like your logic physically pained him. “I do–don’t burn! I tan.” You laughed, short and disbelieving, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Bob, I’ve only ever seen you in different shades of red. Crimson. Rose gold. That one time it was practically cherry Kool-Aid. I’ve never seen you tan. Ever.”

His hand finally gripped the doorknob. Turned it.

And then he had the audacity to smirk–smirk–with a crooked, sheepish sort of charm that softened the edges of his face and made your heart annoyingly ache just beneath your ribs.

“Th–That’s because you never fail to ma–make me blush…”

Your mouth opened, already halfway to a flustered retort–

But the door was already swinging.

“Sorry, I love you, I’ll se–see you in an hour!” he called out breathlessly, bolting into the hallway like a man running from the scene of a crime.

You stood there in stunned silence, sunscreen still clutched in your hand like a grenade with the pin pulled.

“BOB REYNOLDS–”

But it was too late, he was gone, and all you could hear was the hurried slap of bare feet on tile echoing down the corridor.

The door clicked shut gently behind him, like it didn’t just bear witness to your complete defeat, and you let out a dramatic groan, walking to the edge of the bed tossing down the sunscreen onto the thin comforter before dropping face-first into the mattress, climbing up to Bob’s side of the bed, smelling his aftershave–lemon, and mint–on the pillow that he had laid on the night before. You reached for your phone and opened the group chat.

You: If any of you bozos see Bob around please slather him in sunscreen, he’s going to come back looking like a piece of bacon if you don’t.

——————————

The hours had slipped by.

You were curled in the hammock strung up just outside the balcony doors, a paperback in one hand and a half-melted drink in the other. The sun above Mexico had climbed to its highest point, casting everything in that harsh, white-hot glare that made even the breeze feel like it passed through an oven first. Fortunately, you had stationed yourself smartly beneath the wide circle of your umbrella, skin protected, mind adrift in the haze of heat and fictional drama.

The quiet lull of your page-turning was broken by the snick of the hotel door unlocking.

You froze mid-sentence.

Then came the unmistakable shuffle of bare feet dragging across the carpet. Slow. Heavy. The rhythm of a man whose body had turned against him.

You glanced over your shoulder just as the glass door slid open again.

Bob stood there, blinking at the floor like it might shift under his feet. His white linen shirt was wrinkled and clinging in places, damp from sweat. His chest, his arms, even the tops of his cheeks—all a warm, flushed hue of pink that hadn’t been there when he’d left. His light brown curls stuck slightly to his forehead, limp from heat and water.

“See?” he murmured, voice low and sleepy. “I di–didn’t burn.”

You narrowed your eyes, slipping out of the hammock with a sigh and placing your book on the patio table. “You sound like you’re on the brink of heat stroke. Lay down on the bed. Let me get you some water.”

He shuffled past you like a man barely conscious, a wilted version of the smug idiot who’d bolted out this morning. You opened the mini fridge, pulled out one of the chilled water bottles, twisted the cap off–and turned just in time to catch the full, pathetic glory of Bob Reynolds trying to climb onto the bed like it was covered in spikes.

He was moving in slow motion–elbows bent weird, hips at a funny angle, legs dragging like they’d stopped cooperating.

You arched a brow, unimpressed. “You sure you’re not burned? Because you’re definitely doing the ‘I’m burned’ crawl onto that bed of ours.”

“No…” He breathed. His curls fell forward, sticking to his flushed forehead. “No, I’m fine. Just di–dizzy.”

You sighed through your nose as you crossed the room.

He flopped onto his back like it took everything in him, a soft huff of air escaping his lungs as he sank into the mattress. His arm flopped across his chest dramatically, and he looked up at you like a dying Victorian debutante.

You handed him the water wordlessly, and he chugged it in seconds, neck arched, throat working in big, frantic swallows. You watched with your hands on your hips.

“Yeah…” You muttered. “You’re either dehydrated or about to pass out from sun exposure.”

You reached out to touch his arm.

And jerked your hand back instantly.

“Jesus Christ, Bob…” You gasped. “You are burned! You’re boiling!”

He shook his head weakly, eyes fluttering closed as the empty water bottle rolled off his chest. “It’s no–not painful though.”

“Not yet!” You snapped, rubbing your fingertips against your shorts like the heat still clung to them. “Sunburns don’t always show up right away. It usually takes a bit of time. You goof…You’re probably going to blister.” Bob made a soft sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, curling in slightly on himself. The movement clearly hurt him–his jaw clenched, and his whole body flinched with it.

“I… I th–thought I’d just get a little color,” He said, eyes still closed, lips dry and cracked.

You sighed and sat beside him, pressing a hand gently to his forehead. Still way too hot. He didn’t protest your touch now–just blinked up at you, cheeks bright and flushed with the early burn.

“You’re gonna regret this in about an hour,” You muttered.

He reached for your hand sluggishly, curling his fingers around yours. “I al–already do…Sorry I didn’t listen.” You brushed his sweat-damp locks back from his forehead with your free hand, heart squeezing despite yourself. You let out a breath somewhere between a huff and a sigh, brushing your thumb along the back of his hand.

“You’re lucky I remembered to bring aloe vera with me…”

Bob cracked a faint smile, eyes still closed, his voice hoarse and wobbly.

“Be–Because you knew I’d be stubborn?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “Exactly.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, leaning in slightly so he could hear the dry amusement under your exasperation. “Did we learn our lesson, though?”

He nodded against the pillow, light brown curls shifting ever so slightly with the movement. “Al–Always listen to you…”

“Damn right,” You muttered, softening, leaning forward to press a kiss between his flushed brows.

Bob hissed–just a tiny intake of breath–but still smiled underneath it.

“It’s that,” you murmured, brushing your lips over the same spot again, “And always wear sunscreen.” He let out a breathy, tired laugh that made your heart squeeze again. He sounded like he was trying to keep it together through the sheer force of exhaustion and heat.

“Will you help me put so–some of that aloe on now?” He asked, voice low, tentative. “I actually am starting to fe–feel like I’m on fire…And I need to cool off.”

You gave him one more soft kiss between the eyebrows and stood, letting go of his hand.

“Hang tight. I’m gonna go dig it out.”

He made a noise that might’ve been agreement or pain–it was hard to tell at this point.

You padded over to your side of the room and crouched beside your open suitcase, rifling through the tangle of rolled-up swimsuits, cover-ups, soft cotton shorts, and travel-sized chaos. Your fingers finally closed around the cool plastic bottle of aloe, the gel inside sloshing as you pulled it out with a triumphant sigh.

“Got it.”

You turned to face him again, twisting the cap open with one hand and watching as he barely lifted his head from the pillow.

“You’re just burned on your front, right?”

“Ye–Yeah…” He murmured. “I fell asleep on my back.” You paused mid-step.

“…You fell asleep?” He winced, realizing his admission. “So you’re saying this could’ve been even worse?” You added.

Bob made the smallest, most pathetic groan. “Bu–But it’s not worse…” He insisted weakly. “So can you pl–please come here and rub that on my skin now?”

Your lips twitched.

“I should make you wait,” You muttered under your breath. “Just for the drama of it.”

He whimpered. A real one. A sad, miserable little whine that came from deep in his chest.

You sighed again, crossing the room slowly and lowering yourself onto the bed beside him. Bob shifted slowly, groaning as he maneuvered himself upright in the most awkward half-sit of all time. He moved like every inch of him was coated in regret. Still, he reached for you, mumbling something unintelligible as he crawled over and finally laid the full weight of his upper body across your lap.

The heat of him hit you instantly. Not metaphorical heat. Actual radiating body heat–like you were holding a radiator in your lap. The warmth soaked through your thighs, making your skin damp almost instantly, but still…His weight settled into you in that familiar, grounding way. The way it always did.

You exhaled softly, brushing your fingers over his hair again before reaching for the aloe bottle.

With a low pop, you squeezed a generous glob into your hand. The gel was thick and cool, a soft translucent green that shimmered faintly in the sunlight pouring through the window. It smelled faintly of eucalyptus and cucumber–fresh and sharp and oddly calming. A scent meant for soothing. Healing.

You rubbed your palms together to warm it slightly and whispered, “Alright, solar boy… brace yourself.”

You leaned forward and gently pressed your hands to his chest.

His body tensed beneath your touch–muscles flexing instinctively beneath the coolness–before he let out a long, shuddering sigh that sounded like the air had been punched out of him.

“God,” he breathed, “it feels like a piece of ice…Th–that’s so good.”

You smiled softly, brushing your thumbs over the line of his collarbones as you slowly worked the gel into the angry pink flush of his skin.

His eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling against his cheeks. His body, normally all controlled strength and subtle restraint, was loose now. Boneless. Almost fragile.

“Ha–have I told you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my en–entire life,” he mumbled, voice drifting somewhere between delirium and sincerity, “and that I don’t deserve such a perfect person like you in my life?”

You snorted, amused despite yourself. “You technically tell me that every day without words.”

He hummed–a low, content sound from somewhere deep in his chest.

You grabbed another cool dollop of aloe and slowly slathered it along the tender skin of his stomach, careful not to press too hard. He flinched only slightly, but didn’t pull away–just let you touch him, soothe him, cool him.

“I love you so much…” He murmured, the words tumbling out like they’d been resting behind his teeth for hours. “And I’m glad that I have you.”

You looked down at him.

His eyes were still closed, face relaxed now. Less pained. His lips were parted slightly, pink and dry and still cracked from too much sun, too much pool water, too much stubborn Bob nonsense.

You bent down slowly, brushing your lips over his gently, careful not to hurt the delicate skin. He responded with the softest twitch of a smile, his hand reaching to weakly brush your thigh where it held his weight.

“I love you too,” You whispered. “And you’re the best thing that’s happened to me as well. Even if you don’t believe it.”

He let out a soft, almost bashful hum, the kind you’d only ever heard when it was just the two of you–quiet and slow and completely unguarded. His head dropped slightly against your stomach, and you felt him melt.

“You’re wa–warm by the way,” He grumbled sleepily.

“Because you turned me into a human heating pad.”

“Still nice…” He slurred, already fading.

You pressed one last kiss into his hairline, then shifted slightly so you could reach for more aloe without displacing him.

“Get some sleep,” You whispered, “You’ve got a long night of whining ahead of you.”

He didn’t answer.

But the weight of him against you was answer enough as he slowly got heavier and heavier against you as your hands continued to work in the aloe.

[sharieb]

Can I request headcanons where Lads men reacting to shy Non MC Reader giving him a love letter before dashing off like the wind please? - 🌕 anon

Signed, Shyly Yours

Pairing: LADs x shy! Non-MC reader

Genre: Fluff Writer's note: This one was really cute to write🥰🤭

You sneak the letter onto his clipboard just before his break, practically bouncing on your toes.

“I-uh-thank you-no wait- just- read it later! Bye!” you say, almost tripping as you dash away.

He’s left blinking. Holding the letter like it might detonate.

Did she just…?

He excuses himself to his office. Alone, silent, still.

He reads every word. Slowly. Twice.

You wrote about how safe he makes you feel. How you didn’t think someone as calm and brilliant as him would ever look your way.

Zayne stares at the letter, cheeks flushed, fingers trembling slightly as he reads every word slowly.

His throat tightens.

She sees me like that? But… I see her like that too. Every time she helps. Every time she smiles.

He presses the letter against his chest, eyes closed, as if trying to hold your feelings close.

Then he folds it neatly and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat.

When he sees you later, he tries to keep his cool but his voice wavers.“Thank you… for the words.”

He clears his throat, cheeks tinged pink, and softly adds, “They… made my day better. You always do.”

Later, he leaves a mug with your name, a little snow bunny figure made from his evol and a tiny note: “If you want to talk more… I’m here.”

You catch him watching you shyly from across the room, hands fiddling nervously with his coat.

You give it to him after his workshop ends, cheeks red as fire. “This is so dumb- no, just… just read it, please!”

And then you're sprinting off before he can say anything, nearly tripping on your way out, escaping his stunned gaze..

He stares after you, then down at the letter, his mouth slightly open, with his hand still outstretched holding the sealed envelope which he's now clutching as if it’s the most precious thing in the world... “...What just happened?”

Opens it right there, dead centre in the studio.

As he reads your words, your breathless, vulnerable admissions about how much colour he’s brought to your world, how dazzling he seems, he goes still. She... she wrote this for me? Me?

For once, he’s speechless. No witty remark. No dramatic flourish.

Just soft, stunned silence and a quiet, amazed smile that slowly lights up his entire face. “You beautiful, brave little thing,” he murmurs.

He’ll paint something that night. Inspired by your letter. By the way, your voice cracked when you fled.

A flower you love, every brushstroke infused with the warmth of your confession.

He also added little constellations in the background to reflect your presence in his world.

He keeps glancing at the letter between brushstrokes, rereading it with the sort of expression people wear when holding onto something too fragile to let go.

He’ll wait a day. Maybe two. Then corner you with the painting and say, grinning. “If I write one back, do I have to run too? Or are you the only one allowed to make dramatic exits now?”

When you blush fiercely, he laughs softly, the sound more tender than teasing, and gently squeezes your hand. “Next time,” he murmurs, voice low and warm, “stay a little longer. I want to hear you say it with that lovely voice of yours.”

During a lively friend group outing, you manage to slip Caleb the letter when no one is paying close attention.

His fingers brush yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“Just-um. Read it later, please,” you mumble, cheeks flushed, before darting away into the crowd.

Caleb blinks, momentarily frozen amidst the laughter and chatter, then stares at the letter like it’s glowing. She… wrote this? For me?

He tucks it into his jacket pocket, fingers lingering there, unable to stop smiling like an idiot.

He excused himself from the group just to open it in private, naturally.

Inside, your writing is slightly crooked, shaky, filled with nervous confessions about how long you’ve admired him, and how you never felt brave enough to say it.

His thumb lingers over his name written in your handwriting.

He reads the letter twice.

And then again. She likes me. She’s been watching me this whole time. And she ran

Later, as the group pauses near a café, he casually appears beside you with your favourite drink, softly saying, “I got your message.”

When you look up, he just shrugs, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “You run fast… but I’m faster.”

The way he keeps stealing glances at you throughout the outing makes your heart do little flips.

One evening, you find your gear prepped perfectly, your notes reviewed, and a silent note scrawled across the top sheet: "Thanks for seeing me. I've been looking too."

It’s the kind of quiet promise that makes your heart race.

Over the next few days, Caleb finds little moments to be near you, offering a hand when you least expect it, lingering a little longer in your presence, his steady flame growing warmer in your orbit.

You leave the letter on his desk at the Hunters Association heart hammering, “For you. Just… when you have time.”

And then you practically all but teleport out of the U.N.I.C.O.N office area.

He blinks, surprised, then carefully opens it, cheeks tinting pink as he reads your trembling words. “She… wrote this for me?”

He thinks to himself, a shy smile spreading, his fingertips brushing the page like it might vanish if he isn’t gentle.

He reads it again, and again, expression softening with each pass. There's a rare sparkle in his eyes, like a new constellation has just appeared.

That night, he reprograms the starscape above his bed to match the night you met.

As soft light pools across the ceiling, he whispers your name to the stars like a promise, feeling a quiet joy bloom in his chest.

The next morning, a thermos of tea appears on your desk, warm and labelled in his neat handwriting: “For steady hands and shy hearts.”

When you visit him later at his apartment, you find your favourite blanket folded on his couch and a cup of tea waiting, with a sticky note reading: “I read it. I liked it. I like you.”

Xavier watches you from the kitchen, ears red to the tips, trying not to fidget with the sleeve of his jumper. “Would you stay a little longer today?” he asks, voice gentle, almost unsure.

When you sit beside him, he offers you a cushion and tucks the blanket around your legs, his fingers brushing yours.

“You don’t have to run anymore,” he murmurs, almost inaudibly. “Unless… you want me to chase you.”

And when you glance over, you find him smiling shyly into his tea, like he can’t quite believe you’re really there, but he hopes you’ll never leave.

You slide the letter into his hand while he’s distracted, and he nearly drops it in surprise. “Don’t open it until I’m gone.”

You whispered, voice trembling slightly, before disappearing like a ghost into the shadows of the base.

Sylus raises a brow, then cracks the seal with a teasing smirk that fades into wide-eyed shock.

He rereads your words three times, cheeks pink, caught off-guard by your honesty, a rare softness blooming behind his teasing eyes. “A secret admirer, huh?”

He murmurs, voice low and amused, but his ears betray him, tinged pink as he looks away briefly with a sparkle in his eye.

Later, when he finds you lounging around, he leans casually against a wall just to catch your attention, teasing, “Next time, give me a warning. I nearly died waiting.”

As you try to run when he moves closer, Sylus quickly uses his evol to catch you effortlessly, keeping you in place. "Ah, ah, ah. And where do you think you're going, Angel?"

He soon sat down on the couch you were lounging on just a moment ago, and then used his evol again to make you sit on his lap this time. “Tsk. What, you thought you could outrun me, doll? After dropping something that bold?”

He smirks, clearly enjoying how flustered you are in his arms.

When you blush and stumble over your words once again, he just grins wider and adds, “Don’t worry, I liked it. All of it. Especially how you ran.”

Then, quieter, as his gaze lingers on your lips. “If you wanted my attention… You already had it.”

That night, he finds himself rereading the letter under the dim light, fingers tracing your handwriting, smirking to himself as his heart flutters a little lighter and a little more tangled than before, in a way he never admits out loud.

The next day, a single black feather-shaped pin shows up clipped discreetly to your bag, a subtle mark that you’ve caught the attention of someone dangerous… and someone who’s always watching.

Over the following days, Sylus's usual cocky attitude softens around you; he finds himself more protective, more attentive, more... fond. Almost domestic, in his own mischievous way, as if your confession unlocked something unexpected in him.

You catch him waiting outside the rooms you’re in, intercepting anyone who seems to be bothering you, and occasionally offering you his coat with a smug. “You looked cold. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse.”

LADS dividers made by: @uzmacchiato

[finniestoncrane]

You know what I'll bite first(?)

I want reader to convince Hector to let them care for him instead in the bedroom tonight and it's basically a mix of body worship and general praise while jerking him off

Hector x GN!Reader, word count: 1.4k ooooooooh ok i had to write this, he was living in my brain and skittering around in my pipes up there!! i've not finished his storyline yet, so no spoilers for me please!! but i know regardless of what happens next, he deserves a bit of praise and pleasure >:3c request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: a lot of praise for this boy, body worshipping, masturbation/handjobs, tiny bit of hair pulling, pre-ejac, little bit of yandere dialogue because it's hector...

"You told me you couldn't relax for yourself, so please, please let me help you. You need to learn to embrace your body. That way, I can embrace it too."

Hector's heart skipped a beat at the emphasis on your pleading, and he found himself unable to catch his breath in enough time to respond. Instead, he let himself be pushed back towards the bed in your room, sinking down into it as the back of his legs hit the edge.

"Good boy, Hector. This is the first step to changing how you see yourself. Let me show you how I see you."

The bed shifted as you sat down next to him, hand on his chest as you gently pushed him backwards, waiting until he was laying down, his dark curls resting on the pillows, before you began to stroke your fingers through his hair, twirling the locks around your fingers and hoping to soothe him. But he was still nervous, enough that he began to tug at your sheets, trying to hide himself with them out of his instinctual urge to conceal the things that he disliked so much.

"No, no. Don't cover yourself up. I want to see all of you."

"Are you sure? I still find it so hard to believe that someone as magnificent as yourself would be interested in any aspect of me."

"Really? When you're so handsome, and so sexy. I'm almost angry that you'd hide yourself away for so long, Hector. Seems wrong to keep this a secret."

It was all he could do to keep his smile from widening, but he'd warmed up to you so quickly that it was impossible to hide himself from you. And you were determined to keep things moving in that direction, so positive reinforcement was required. Luckily, you knew now how he worked, and you were able to pull the sheets away, uncovering his body and noting the slight tenting of his cock underneath his clothes. It was distracting, but not more so than his satisfied grin.

"Such a sweet smile, it makes your eyes light up. Your cheeks are so warm, so cute. And your lips, so soft... so welcoming."

"Only for you..."

Each milimetre of the tiny distance between you was tension filled and wrought with a dire need that was immediately turned to passionate satisfaction once the kiss begun. Hector was content to lay back and let you take over, offering no resistance as you deepend the kiss, and even less when your hands began to travel down his front and to the stirring below his waist. Your fingers teased below the material, skimming over the skin above his erection, feeling the contrasted texture of his thick, black pubic hair. And as the kiss broke off, Hector struggling to catch his breath, you let your lips follow his soft jaw line to his neck, your pecks and the gentle nips of your teeth interspersed with words that amounted to yet more compliments.

"I know you've felt so comfortable behind the security of the grate, but I need you, Hector. More than you could imagine, more than I think you're willing to accept. But I can show you. Let me heat you up for a change, I want to see your skin flushing, that sparkle in your eyes."

His cock was freed now, and it protruded into the air as you wrapped your fingers around the length. Average, but thick, and just a few shades darker than his perfectly clear skin. You leaned your head against him, angling your view to watch the way your hand fit so perfectly around his length. Hector shuddered, stuttering out something, but you assuaged whatever concerns he was fabricating.

"You've given me so much, all of those years, unappreciated. Now I want to pay you back, it's only right."

Your gentle strokes firmed up, quicker movements as your determination took over. You wanted him to be happy, to see him satisfied, relieved, and to at least offer him something physical in the way of evidence of your attraction to him. With your tempo set, you kept up the motions, noting that Hector's hips began to shift, pushing his cock upwards into your fist as his body squirmed slightly against the mattress.

"I'm... This is... Wow..."

With a giggle, you whispered against his skin, still loud enough that he could hear you past his own hushed whimpers.

"That sense of contentment? Of pure joy? you deserve that. You work so hard to make me happy, and I think you deserve the same back ten-fold."

"I live to please you. I ask for nothing in return. Your pleasure is just as ah... ah..."

Your other hand reached for his balls, cupping them before gently squeezing.

"All of that time you spent watching me, I think it's fair that I get to see you as you reach complete ecstacy, too, no?"

As Hector let out a sigh of relief, his body giving in finally to the looming and certain orgasm that was beginning to wash over him. A little coaxing was all it would take to get him to finally let go of the last of his tensions.

"All that stress, the nerves, your worries and concerns about how I'll perceive you? I'm going to make them all... go... away."

It sounded like a stifled groan, a strangled sound that he was trying to cover up. And you weren't having that.

"I want to hear your sweet voice, Hector. Your moans, your sighs, your screams."

Hector's stomach was tensing, the slight hint of muscles below the softness of his stomach as he clenched in response to his quickening climax. Each stroke of your fist down the shaft of his cock had him quivering, and you relished in the view of his body that you had from this perfect position. One of his hands rested in your hair, occasionally gripping at the root as he became overwhelmed with arousal. Even without the firm placement of his palm against you, there was no way you would have lifted your head from his chest. From there you could see your own hand working, pumping at his twitching cock, his precum leaking, dribbling from his head down to the visible frenulum as you pulled back his foreskin with your movements. And as you watched his body react to your stimulation, you could hear his heart beat thudding in his chest against your ear.

You were worried for a moment when his gentle whining turned into a sharp shriek, concerned that in your distractions you might have become to firm or too quick. But as you felt the warm, yet quickly cooling, liquid begin to drip over your fingers, you understood.

"Ah... I, I've ruined it. A moment so perfect, so pure. I'm so sorry. Faced with your charitable gesture, the idea that you would be so willing to help me seek the same satisfaction as I've helped you with so many times... Well, my excitement got the better of me. Yet another reason that you could do far better in-"

"Did it feel good?"

He paused his nerve driven rambling, all desire to self-flagellate superceded by his need to offer you an answer when one was asked of him.

"Of course! It was marvellous. For all that I've dreamt of how your hands might feel on my body, it was better than I ever could have guessed."

When it seemed as though he might start apologising again for something that in truth you found flattering, quite endearing to his adorably desperate nature, you placed a finger on his lips and hushed him.

"Then there's nothing to apologise for, Hector. We both got what we wanted."

You lay your head next to his on your pillow, watching his eyes scan the room, as if he were looking for the final bit of confidence to say what he said next.

"In that case... perhaps it wouldn't be too much to ask if I could lay here a while longer. I could warm you in a more manual manner than either of us are accustomed to."

Hector lifted his arm, offering you the space between that and his chest, and you willingly dove into it, wrapping your arms around his body and settling in with a sigh.

[the-librarby]

hiii i love your drunk in the club series !!

would you write a blurb/fic where johnny shows the rest of the 141 the picture from the bar of reader and ghost? i feel like that could be so cuteee

DRUNK IN DA CLUB — OUTTAKE I

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

I’ve been waiting for this one, let’s fucking go.

It had been less than twenty four hours back on base before John set his mind to ruining Simon’s day.

He was fucking tired— a nice bone tired after a good holiday — no one has really picked up on his oddly serene mood yet, and he was hoping to keep it that way for at least the rest of the day.

Miss you already.

Sent 25 minutes ago.

He wasn’t ignoring you, just waiting for a pocket of silence where he would have you to himself without peering eyes and ears. The dining room was empty as of now, everyone being preoccupied with unpacking their things so he was soaking in the last minutes of peaceful silence until all hell broke loose.

“Restful break then?” Gaz asks, clapping him on the shoulder before taking a seat beside him.

“S’alright,” he mutters through his mask.

“No beach trip like Soap wanted I take it?” He inquires jokingly, broad smile on his face.

Simon rolls his eyes, “Fuck no.”

Price mills in not long after, catching the tail end of the conversation, “Hell would soon freeze over before I here about Ghost at the beach,”

“Can’t argue with that, Cap.” Gaz laughs.

A steady silence washes over the kitchen as everyone goes about their individual things. John is suspiciously absent, he’s usually the first one trying to unpack a conversation—in avoidance of unpacking his bags—Simon thinks he’s probably stealing another minute to talk to that girl he met through you.

He spoke too soon.

Moments later Johnny strides in, first it’s inconspicuous, like he’s just trying to see what everyone else is up too. But then he sees who’s in the room, Simon sitting at the head of the table while Gaz and Price sit either side engaged in small talk. Simon watches as John’s expression morphs into one of concerning mischief. He watches as he cautiously approaches the table, standing at the other end and pressing his fingertips together like a cliché villain would.

John clears his throat, “I’m glad I could bring you all here on such short notice,”

Gaz raises an eyebrow and looks at Simon, “What’s he on about?”

Simon shrugs, “Fucked if I know,” he knows.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here,” John carries on, pacing back and forth.

“Spit it out son,” Price sighs, “It’s too early for you to be talking in tongues,”

John points at Simon, “He’s the one that’s been talking in tongues,” he shoots back, laughing at his own inside joke.

“Anyway, where was I,” he pauses, “Oh yeah. I am here to tell you the epic tale of the one who crumbled The Ghost himself.”

All three men look at him in silence. If Simon wasn’t wearing a mask right now he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose, he refuses to give into the bait so he just sits there in silent resignation.

Gaz is the first to break the silence, “Five bucks I call bullshit— it’s gonna be some elaborate fairytale,”

Johnny points at him as an auctioneer would, “I call your bet, anyone else in?”

Price sighs and leans back in his seat while crossing his arms over his chest, “Get on with it Soap, I don’t have all day,”

John clears his throat theatrically, “I, ever so graceful—”

“Yeah, that’s the word we’ll use,” Gaz mutters.

“Shut up,” he raises his palm in Gaz’s face, “Ever so graceful, hosted Ghost over the break,” he lowers his hand, “And in that time, I saw this fucker find his soulmate,”

Price raises an eyebrow and looks towards Gaz, “I think I’m seeing the fairytale come to life,”

Gaz hums, “Where did the princess come from?”

John scoffs, “Can’t show all my card yet Gaz, c’mon now,” he looks at Simon, “Anything details you want to add? Wedding plans?

Simon shakes his head, “You’ve lost your mind,”

“Wedding?” Price inquires turning his head to see Simon now. He hates how much they’re both buying into John’s nonsense theatrics, he’d almost rather blurt out the truth himself.

“Who’s best man then?” Gaz laughs, “It’s me, right Ghost?”

“Fuck off,” John spits, “I’m the obvious choice,”

Simon huffs and looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “Not havin’ this debate, finish your story, Johnny,”

“Eager huh?” He smirks but concedes, “S’lright Gaz, you can be the best man. I’ll be there regardless, being apart of the bride’s family and all.”

He knew the story had an end point, he knew it would end with himself getting outed. He just didn’t think Johnny would drop the bomb like that, but of course he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“You fuckin’ dickhead, why would you announce it like that?” He mutters.

Gaz squints his eyes, looking a Price for guidance as he works out the mental maths before him, “Bride’s family?”

If he weren’t expecting it, he would have flinched from the way Gaz slammed his hands down on the table and stood up from his chair, “John’s sister?” He exclaims, “You got with his fucking sister?”

He looks at John, “And you’re not pissed off? That your lieutenant is dating your sister?” He looks at Simon, “You really want to marry into his family?” He asks, hitching a thumb in John’s direction.

Simon crosses his arms over his chest, “Didn’t say anything about a wedding,”

“Yet,” John interrupts.

Simon’s silence makes Gaz laugh hysterically, Price who hasn’t said a word at all, just shakes his head in disbelief.

“Alright,” Price raises his hands, waiting for Gaz to simmer down, “I’ve heard more elaborate lies from you over smaller things. I’m not believin’ another word until I see proof,”

John nods, “So glad you said that, Captain,” he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. Simon would walk out of the room now if he knew it wouldn’t make his case worse, so he just sits there and grits his teeth.

Gaz is sitting on the edge of his seat, admittedly it’s gotten Price to straighten up too. John clears his throat once he’s found his evidence, “And to back up my claims, fresh off the press, a photo of two birds—one drunk out of her fucking mind—all cozy in their nest,”

Price is the first to lean forward and look at John’s phone. On the screen is the photo he took of the two of you at the bar, its exposure is slightly high from the flash but it’s undeniably himself and you sitting on the barstools. His arm is over your chest while you lie back against him, your arms hugging his own.

It’s damning evidence that even Simon can’t get around.

“Holy fucking shit,” Gaz breaks the silence, “This feels like a relic—like it needs to be preserved behind glass,”

“I fucking told ye, and you didn’t believe me,” John states.

Price looks at Simon and nods approvingly, “Good for you,”

“That’s it?” John asks, “Good for you? I just showed you evidence of the century,”

“I didn’t think you could even tolerate affection,” Gaz adds, looking speechless.

“Get this Gaz,” John continues, “First day there, it’s hot as balls and we go to a local swimming spot,” he puts his phone down, “I turn my back for one minute and when I turn around she’s slathering him in sunscreen,”

“Oh,” Gaz laughs, turning to Simon, “You like her huh? Did she get your back?”

John scoffs and crosses his arms, “She was too busy droolin’ over it to touch it,” he mutters.

“What?” Simon asks, suddenly interested.

“What?” John interjects, “Nothin’.”

Simon sits there and listens to John air out all his business like it’s his own. After the shock dies down Gaz and Price both look at him with a fond smile—in utter disbelief yes, but happy for him.

When time allows it, he sneaks back to his room and finally opens his phone. There’s two messages waiting for him, one from you, and an image from John.

Johnny told everyone about us.

That fucking asshole.

Guess I’m meeting them soon then?

Simon smiles, and types out one last message.

Maybe at the wedding.

Whose wedding???

When your last message shows up on Simon’s lockscreen, the photo from the bar pops up in the background.

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

Hey I have a request! What do you think about Girlfriend reader hanging up on rafe multiple times during an argument and then he comes over w smut? 🫶🏽xx

THE ARGUMENT . . .

the argument starts over something dumb—rafe’s pissed because you left a couple of coffee mugs in the sink at his place, and you’re firing back that he’s got no right to lecture you about messes when his truck’s a disaster zone of empty beer cans and gym clothes.

it’s one of those fights that’s more about being annoyed than anything real, but you’re in a mood, all bratty and sharp-tongued, and rafe’s not backing down, his voice loud and clipped over the phone. “you’re actin’ like a damn kid,” he snaps, that outer banks drawl thick with frustration. “just clean up your shit, it ain’t that hard.”

“oh, please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes as you pace your apartment, phone pressed to your ear. “you’re not my dad, rafe. maybe if you weren’t such a slob yourself, i’d listen.”

you’re being extra, you know it, but you’re not in the mood to play nice, so you hang up on him, thumb jabbing the red button with a little too much satisfaction.

your phone buzzes almost immediately, his name lighting up the screen, and you let it ring a few times before picking up, just to make him wait. “what?” you say, voice all attitude, and he’s already heated, you can hear it in the way he’s breathing hard.

“don’t fuckin’ hang up on me,” he says, low and tight, like he’s trying to keep it together. “we’re talkin’ this out.”

“are we?” you shoot back, smirking even though he can’t see it. “’cause it sounds like you’re just yelling. i’m not in the mood, rafe.” and you hang up again, tossing your phone on the couch, feeling that petty thrill run through you. it’s childish, sure, but he’s been on your nerves all day, and you’re not about to let him win this one.

he calls back, of course, and this time you let it go to voicemail, watching the screen flash until it stops. a text comes through a second later:

you’re bein’ a real brat, you know that?

you ignore it, flipping on the tv, trying to distract yourself, but there’s a tiny part of you that’s waiting, knowing he’s not gonna let this slide.

later that night, you’re curled up with a glass of wine when there’s a knock at your door, hard and insistent. you don’t even need to check to know it’s him, and when you open it, rafe’s standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. his hair’s a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his eyes are softer than you’ve seen in a while, all red-rimmed and desperate.

“baby,” he starts, voice low, almost broken, and it’s so unlike him it throws you off. “i’m sorry, aight? i fucked up. i shouldn’t’a yelled about the damn mugs, it’s stupid.”

he steps closer, hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure he’s allowed. “been sittin’ at home, and it’s… it’s fuckin’ empty without you. i hate this shit. i need you, okay? i’m losin’ it.”

you cross your arms, still holding onto that bratty edge, chin tilted up. “you didn’t seem sorry when you were yelling at me,” you say, voice sharp, but you’re already softening, the way he’s looking at you—like you’re his whole world—chipping away at your resolve.

“i know,” he says, stepping into your space, his hands finally landing on your hips, tentative at first, then tighter when you don’t pull away. “i was bein’ a dick. i just… i miss you when you’re not there, and i got all fucked up thinkin’ about you bein’ mad at me.”

he’s practically begging now, his voice rough, needy, and it’s so pathetic, so unlike the usual cocky rafe, that you almost feel bad for him. almost.

“you should be sorry,” you say, but your voice is softer now, and he catches it, his eyes lighting up with a glimmer of hope. “i don’t like fighting over stupid shit.”

“me neither,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. “lemme make it up to you, baby. please.” his hands slide up your sides, and he’s so close you can feel how much he means it, how desperate he is to fix this. “i’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t shut me out.”

you let him kiss you then, soft at first, like he’s afraid you’ll push him away, but when you kiss him back, it’s like a dam breaks. his hands are everywhere, pulling you against him, and he’s murmuring apologies between kisses, his voice thick with that drawl.

all “i’m sorry, baby” and “love you so fuckin’ much.” you’re still a little mad, but it’s hard to stay bratty when he’s like this, all needy and pathetic, like he’d fall apart without you.

he backs you toward the couch, and you let him, your hands in his hair as he kneels between your legs, tugging your shorts down with a kind of reverence that makes your heart skip. “gonna make you feel so good,” he says, voice low, almost a growl, but it’s not cocky now—it’s desperate, like he’s proving something. “my girl deserves everythin’.”

you’re still a little huffy, arms crossed as you look down at him, but the way he’s kissing up your thighs, soft and slow, makes it hard to keep up the act. “you better,” you say, voice sharp, but he just nods, like he’s agreeing with everything you’re saying.

“i will,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, and when his mouth finally finds you, it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s worshipping you.

his tongue moves in lazy circles, teasing, drawing out every sound you try to hold back, and you can feel him watching you, gauging every reaction. “fuck, you taste so good,” he says, voice muffled, and it’s not his usual dirty talk—it’s raw, like he’s pouring himself into every word.

you’re trying to stay composed, but he’s too good, too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as he works you, slow and deep, until you’re squirming, your brattiness melting into something softer, needier. “rafe,” you whimper, and he groans, like hearing his name is enough to push him over the edge.

“that’s it, baby,” he says, lips brushing against you as he speaks, his tongue never stopping. “let me take care of you. my perfect fuckin’ girl.” he’s relentless but gentle, building you up until you’re trembling, your hands fisting his hair, your breaths coming fast and shaky.

when you finally come, it’s with a soft cry, your body shaking as he keeps going, drawing it out until you’re oversensitive, pushing at his head. he pulls back, kissing your thighs, your stomach, murmuring, “so good f’me, always so good,” and when he crawls up to kiss you, his lips are wet, his eyes soft and desperate still, like he’s not done proving himself.

“forgive me?” he asks, voice low, his forehead pressed to yours, and you can feel how much he means it, how lonely he must’ve been sitting in that big house without you.

you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “maybe,” you tease, but your voice is soft, and he smiles, kissing you again, like he’s never letting you go.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

𓂅 taglist ― @littlelamy @dollyfiles @drewstarkeyswife0 @icaqttt @urcoolgf @camercns @pointocean @dsfault @rafestoothbrush @huhidontknowstuff @drewssgirl

[lascvitae]

idk if ur taking reqs but can i plz request niki trying to play games while u grind on his lap

ᝰ.ᐟ katty gonna go say gamer bf niki in my mirror 3 times brb

ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. smut (18+) 西村力 x fem!reader dry humping (kinda) riding size kink 18O3wc degradation praise kink (if you squint) creampie (use condoms!!!) squirting overstimulation pet names (baby, pretty face/pretty girl), niki is possessive n a lil mean ───── ꒰ 𝓿ault. ꒱

“NIKI.” YOU MURMUR AGAIN, VOICE low and syrupy sweet. your hips move in slow circles on his lap.

his breath catches. he doesn’t look at you, eyes locked onto the screen in front of him like it’s the only thing keeping him in reality. but you can feel how hard he is under you.

you shift again, dragging yourself across the thick bulge in his sweats like you’re starving for friction. and maybe you are.

“i can feel you throbbing.” you whisper, letting your fingers trail up his stomach under his shirt. “you like when i grind on you like this, baby?”

he doesn’t answer. not with words, at least. his head tips back slightly, jaw clenched tight. his hand on the mouse twitches.

you hum, satisfied. you lean back just enough so he can feel every inch of your heat through the lace, slick and already soaking through, smearing over the fabric of his sweats every time you roll your hips again.

“you’re gonna cum in your pants before you even touch me. poor baby can’t even focus, can you?” you tease, kissing up his neck with a giggle.

“stop.” he mutters, but it’s weak. your nails trace lightly over his chest. “but you’re so hard for me.”

you push your hips down, grinding just right until you feel him jerk under you.

“fuck.” he chokes out, one hand flying to your waist. “you wanna get fucked right here?”

“please. can’t wait anymore.” you whisper, lips brushing his.

he pushes the headset off his head, finally grabbing your thighs with both hands and groaning. he shoves his sweats down just enough to free his cock, already leaking at the tip. you suck in a breath at the sight of it, cunt fluttering.

he smirks. “what? you scared now?”

“n-no.” you whisper, eyes locked on him.

“then sit.”

his fingers hook in your panties and drag them to the side. your slick clings to the fabric and he grips your hips and lines himself up, pushing against your entrance.

“eyes on me. wanna see your pretty face when you take it.” he mutters, grabbing your jaw and forcing your gaze up.

you nod quickly, starting to sink down. your mouth drops open as he stretches you open inch by inch, spreading your walls around him. you moan helplessly.

he grins, catching your reaction. “you gonna take it, baby? gonna let me stretch stretch you out?”

“fuck— niki— too big—”

“nah. said you couldn’t wait, remember? so take all of it.” he says, fingers grabbing your hips as he pulls you down farther.

you slide down inch by inch, walls stretched around his length. it makes your toes curl, and when you finally bottom out, sitting fully in his lap, he groans like he’s about to lose it.

“feel that? feel me in your stomach?” he whispers, voice right in your ear.

you nod frantically. he kisses your jaw and then thrusts up into you. hard.

you cry out, hands scrambling to his shoulders as your body jolts.

“ride me. bounce, baby. make that pussy work for it.” he pants.

you start moving, bouncing in his lap. every time you drop, it’s loud. he watches you like he’s hypnotized. “look at you. taking every inch like a good little slut.”

“i’m trying—” you whimper, voice shaking.

“don’t try. take it.” he says, slapping your ass hard enough to make you jolt.

he grips your hips harder, dragging you down while he fucks up into you, making your eyes roll back.

“you close? gonna cum with me stuffing you full?” he whispers, thumb brushing your clit now.

“y-yes, niki, please— feels so good—”

“do it. cum for me, baby.” he snaps, voice tight, thumb rubbing messy fast circles into your clit now.

your mouth drops open and he doesn’t slow down. his length drags deep inside you with every bounce, stretching you open so good your body jerks with every thrust. he’s not letting you set the pace anymore, fucking up into you while keeping you in his lap like you’re his favorite toy.

your body seizes up, orgasm ripping through you. your legs tremble, nails digging into his shoulders, cunt gushing around his cock.

“fuck— baby— shit, look at that.” he pants, watching your slick squirt out, wetting his sweats and dripping down his balls.

you’re gasping, hips twitching as he keeps fucking you through it. he thrusts up once and spills into you with a low, strained groan. he keeps you full, not even pulling out as you feel his cum deep inside of you.

and then his headset mic flicks back on.

“yo, sorry. my bad. lagged out or some shit.” he mumbles breathlessly, still buried in you. his hand lazily grips your thigh and you just blink in response.

“don’t move. you’re my good luck charm.” he whispers while smirking, still twitching inside you.

taglist @saysirhc @blissfulflw @yuyuy90

[emisluvr]

hii emii i luvluv ur fics ;< can i request smt jakehoon pls ? like u can cook up anything basically (also this can wait pls prioritize ur health first luvulotsss ^^)

hii bb, thank you sm! <3 i appreciate you being so patient mwahh

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), threesome, praise, slight dumbification, oral + rough sex

"our pretty fuckin' girl," jake grunts, thrusting his cock into you from behind, one hand gripping your waist tight while the other presses into the small of your back, keeping you arched for him. "taking my cock so well while your mouth's stuffed with his."

you're drooling all over sunghoon’s length, trying to keep up with sucking him as he lets out a breathy moan. his hand is tangled in your hair, guiding your head just the way he likes it, hips barely moving as he lets you do all the work.

"fuck, you're such a good girl, aren't you?" sunghoon pants, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you bob your head up and down. "so messy for us.. dumb little baby doesn’t even know who to please first, huh?"

jake chuckles at his remark, his cock hitting deep inside you as he watches the flesh of your ass recoil with every thrust. your brows furrow in pleasure, your whimpers muffled around sunghoon's cock—spit dripping down your chin. the room's filled with the sound of skin slapping and your slurps.

"don’t gotta think, baby. just let us use you," jake huffs, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as his cock grows more sensitive from the way your tight and slick walls suck him so perfectly, tip twitching inside you. "you're doing so good, princess. letting us ruin you like this."

your body feels more limp and weak now, thighs shaking as jake pounds into your soaked pussy, the pressure in your stomach building fast.

sunghoon brushes the loose strands of hair off your face, thumb swiping the spit from your cheek as he grins down at you, watching you try your best to suck him while you're getting fucked dumb.

"gonna cum with both our cocks in you, yeah?" sunghoon whispers, caressing your head. "go ahead, baby. show us how good it feels."

© emisluvr 2025. all rights reserved.

[applepiiex]

your fics are amazing, I’m happy to have found a fluffy m!reader writer.

I am requesting some sort of fluffy fic with toji fushiguro! Something with college student reader, and older bf toji and baby megumi. Like. Im js thinking of toji pulling up to reader’s campus with megumi in his arms and nobody would suspect that reader is dating the big strong dilf waiting at the front gates ><

🐯anon<3

CAMPUS CRUSH ! ! !

Toji Fushiguro x Male!Reader

College is hard enough without your terrifyingly hot secret boyfriend showing up on campus with a baby strapped to his chest like the world's scariest diaper ad. Especially when that boyfriend is Toji Fushiguro, ex-hitman vibes, muscle daddy body, and a very clear “do not approach” aura. You’re trying to stay under the radar. He’s walking around in broad daylight like a walking scandal. And now half your bio lab thinks he’s your brother. You're never going to live this down.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. But you still nearly drop your iced coffee when you spot him standing like a brick wall among the flow of students trickling through the university gates.

Toji Fushiguro is impossible to miss. He’s taller than half your professors, broader than any linebacker on the school team, and meaner-looking than the security guards who stalk the parking lots at night. There’s something about him that says don’t even try me — the scar over his lip, maybe, or the way he’s never quite relaxed unless he’s got you underneath him or Megumi snoring against his chest.

You don’t mean to stare, but how could you not? He’s a force of nature against a backdrop of backpacks and chatter. Some students glance up, startled, most keep walking, but you hear it in their whispers.

“Is he a cop?” “No way. Look at his arms. He’s gotta be like, ex-military or something.” “Wait, is that a baby?”

It’s kind of hilarious. Toji’s eyes flick around lazily, ignoring the double-takes. He looks more like a bodyguard than someone’s dad — except for the tiny boy curled against his chest, socked feet peeking out from the sling Toji grudgingly lets you use when you scold him for carrying Megumi like a grocery bag.

You spot the security guard hovering by the front desk inside the gatehouse, half-hiding behind the glass door and pretending not to stare. He must be wondering if he needs to call campus police.

You pause at the top of the steps leading down to the main quad, blinking at the sight of your big, terrifying boyfriend standing under the shade of an old oak, cradling his tiny son like the world’s softest threat. Megumi is knocked out cold, cheeks pink, a small hand bunched in the front of Toji’s black tee.

A girl next to you sighs dreamily. “Oh my god, he’s so hot. Is that his baby? That’s so cute…”

You bite back a laugh and press your straw to your lips to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks. Yeah. He is hot. And that is his baby. And, god help you, that big man is yours, too. The same one who kisses you stupid in your shoebox apartment, who sometimes stays awake just to watch you study until 2AM, who tries and fails to keep Megumi’s sticky fingers out of your notebooks.

He catches you staring before you can school your face. His eyes flick up, sharp at first, then softening so fast it knocks the air out of your lungs.

You hurry down the steps, ignoring the way a few heads turn. It’s broad daylight and you’re not supposed to do this here, but he’s here, and you haven’t seen him since you left his bed this morning, late for class.

“Toji,” you hiss, but it comes out embarrassingly happy. He raises an eyebrow, smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

You almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

When you reach him, Toji clocks your flushed cheeks immediately. “What’s with the face? You sick or somethin’?”

You jab him in the ribs carefully, so you don’t jostle Megumi. “People are staring, Toji. You couldn’t text me first?”

He tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I texted. You didn’t answer.”

“Because I was in class—!”

You cut off when a pair of girls you recognize from your bio lab walk past. They both slow down, eyes widening as they take in the entire picture: you, college boy in a hoodie with your backpack half-zipped; Toji, six foot something and built like a nightmare; and the small lump of a baby snoozing obliviously in a carrier against all that muscle.

One of the girls nudges the other. “Hey, Y/N! Who’s this?”

You clear your throat. “Uh, this is...um…”

Before you can finish, Toji’s mouth twitches into a grin that never means anything good. “Older brother,” he drawls, leaning closer to you on purpose. His breath ghosts your ear: Play along.

“Oh! Wow, I didn’t know you had family visiting!” The second girl giggles, covering her mouth. “Your nephew is so cute!” Toji’s eyes glitter with mischief. He bounces Megumi slightly, just to make him sigh in his sleep, and the girls all but melt on the spot.

“Cute, huh?” Toji murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “You think I’m cute too, sweetheart?”

Your ears burn so bad you’re certain they’re red. “Haha, okay, we’re gonna go! Bye!” you say, grabbing Toji’s arm and dragging him toward the parking lot.

The girls giggle behind you, whispering too loud for comfort, “He’s so hot, oh my god, your friend’s brother is so hot—”

When you round the corner away from sight, you shove his arm, careful not to wake Megumi. “Brother? Seriously?”

Toji’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. He dips his head so his forehead bumps yours for just a second. “Shoulda said daddy, huh?”

You slap a hand over his mouth, horrified, and hiss, “We are on campus.”

He grins behind your palm, all teeth and that same dangerous warmth you love too much. He lets you cover his mouth until your hand slides away, then catches your fingers and kisses your knuckles instead. Rough lips, gentle promise. “You gonna say hi to your favorite boy, or just stand there droolin’ over me?”

You don’t bother answering. You slip close, brushing your hand over Megumi’s soft hair first, he makes a sleepy noise but doesn’t wake, and then you let your knuckles linger on Toji’s forearm. He feels warm under your fingers, solid and real and safe in a way you wish you could wear openly.

“He wouldn’t nap at home,” Toji says, pretending he’s annoyed, but the way his arm shifts so Megumi’s head stays tucked under his chin betrays him. “Thought you’d do the trick.”

“Oh, I see how it is. I’m the emergency pacifier.” “You said it, not me.”

You flick his side lightly, but he catches your wrist before you can retreat. He holds it for a second longer than he should, just enough to feel your pulse flutter. Then he lets go with a grunt, as if you’re the one making this harder than it has to be.

You can feel eyes on you, a couple students are definitely whispering. No one here knows. You like it that way. Better for your grades, better for his peace of mind, better for Megumi’s future. But there’s a small, traitorous part of you that aches to drop your bag, press your mouth to Toji’s throat, and say yes, he’s mine. He tilts his head at the parking lot. “C’mon. He’ll wake up if you keep standin’ around lookin’ pretty and getting attention.“

Your heart does a flip at pretty especially in that rough voice, but you roll your eyes and let him steer you toward his battered old car.

In the car, Megumi stays asleep through the soft click of his car seat straps. Toji watches you adjust the buckles, pretending he doesn’t melt a little every time you brush the kid’s hair out of his eyes.

You settle into the passenger seat, backpack stuffed between your knees. The cab smells like him: faint cologne, clean sweat, the lingering scent of the gas station coffee he lives on. He leans over to tug your seatbelt across your chest, an excuse, really, to bury his nose in your neck for half a second.

“Toji—” “Shut up. Missed you.”

It’s so quiet, so casual, and yet it punches you right in the ribs. He pulls back before you can respond, palm sliding up your throat just once before he grips the wheel instead.

He drives with one hand, other arm resting out the open window. You watch him more than the passing traffic. You’re pretty sure he knows.

“You gonna tell me why you really came?” you ask when he pulls into a quieter street, lined with trees and old houses.

Toji snorts. “Kid wouldn’t sleep. And I figured you’d be hungry by now.”

You groan, you are hungry. He always knows.

“Could’ve just called.” “Yeah. But then I wouldn’t get to see that dumb look on your face when you see me, huh?”

You glare, but he’s right. He’s always right. You swallow the warmth blooming in your chest and reach over the console to squeeze his thigh in retaliation.

“Jerk,” you mumble. “Mmhm. Yours though, ain’t I?”

He parks outside your tiny apartment. You juggle your bag and Toji’s huge palm resting on the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs like he’s done a hundred times.

Inside, he kicks the door shut with his boot and sighs when you pull him down for a kiss. Megumi snuffling softly between you both, oblivious. Your textbooks are scattered across the couch, but Toji ignores them. He sinks into your cushions with Megumi nestled in his lap, eyes drifting shut the moment he feels your fingers comb through his hair.

“Nap with us,” he murmurs against your palm.

You do. Books forgotten, coffee gone watery on the table. There’s only warm skin, the soft baby breaths of Megumi curled against his father’s chest, and Toji’s big hand curved possessively around the back of your neck like he’s daring the world to take this away.

No one would ever guess. But you know. And you’re never giving it up.

By the time you reach the parking lot, you swear every student who saw is going to spend the next week trying to guess exactly who the scary hot guy with the baby is. You kinda like that no one will ever guess the truth. That later tonight, you’ll be asleep on that same big chest, baby Megumi snoring softly at your side, exactly where you belong.

[starkeymeow]

hi! loving your rafe cameron who thingy at the moment it’s so good and i love all the different fandoms and ideas! i was wondering if you’d ever consider writing a slytherin rafe x hufflepuff reader one?

love you work <33

# HOGWARTS — slytherin!rafe who . . .

main masterlist | series masterlist

glances at you the first time during second year when you trip over your robes in the hallway and instead of laughing like his friends, he just keeps walking, but his gaze lingers half a second too long.

bumps into you on purpose one afternoon, knocking your bag to the ground, just to see if you’d cry or snap, and when you glare at him like you’re not scared at all, he grins for the first time in days.

scoffs when a professor partners him with you for a magical creatures project, muttering “great, a puff. this’ll be fun,” but still does every part of the work because he refuses to be outdone.

sends a jinx your way during third year dueling club, smirks when you fall, then just stares when you laugh and get right back up like you weren’t humiliated at all.

stays behind after class when you drop your quill and actually hands it back instead of kicking it like he used to. he doesn’t smile, but doesn’t look away from your eyes either.

starts watching you more during fourth year, arms crossed, jaw tight, trying to decide when exactly you stopped being annoying and started being interesting.

sighs dramatically when he’s paired with you again in potions but doesn’t argue this time, just lets you lead and mutters “guess you're not just sunshine and stupid after all.”

glares when you wave at him across the great hall, but still nods back.

tosses a sugar quill on your desk after snapping at you in front of the whole class, then walks off before you can thank him.

gets weirdly quiet in fifth year when someone calls you “just a puff” under their breath. he doesn’t say anything until after class when he meets that kid’s eyes and hexes their ink bottle to explode mid-essay.

starts sitting next to you in electives without being asked, and when someone points it out, he just shrugs like “we’ve partnered before. might as well.”

starts watching your quidditch matches, always near the back, arms crossed and scowl tight maybe, but he still never misses a game.

lets you wear his scarf during a snowy sixth year hogsmeade trip with a sigh, muttering “don’t stretch it out.”

fights with you in the courtyard after you catch him hexing someone again, and when you shove him, he grabs your wrist and kisses you, like he’s been waiting since second year.

doesn’t tell anyone about the kiss, but he doesn’t need to. everyone sees the way he stands beside you now.

still teases you in front of others, still rolls his eyes, still calls you “too soft,” but starts doing it while holding your hand under the table.

starts waiting for you outside your common room, hands in his pockets, pretending he’s “just walking by” even though it’s across the damn castle LMAO

pulls you aside before every quidditch match now, lifts your chin, says “don’t get distracted. and don’t die.”

listens when you talk about what you’ll do after hogwarts, doesn’t say his own plans, but quietly shifts his to be closer to yours.

says “you’re not allowed to fall in love with anyone else” on a late walk after curfew, and you realize it’s the closest he’s ever come to saying he loves you.

walks beside you on the last day of seventh year like it’s just another morning. he doesn’t kiss you goodbye just yet. he just says “you were the best thing i got out of this place.”

me when i write them a happy ending idc i dont wanna ruin them id probably cry

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @sukunasmuse @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14 @amterasuu @theteenagementality @maggscr @hey-you22w @delilah22pbp @hayleynott @silkenthusiasts

[tsaheylutales]

You weren't supposed to know | Chapter 2

Pairing: Steve Harrrington X Henderson!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, stranger things level threats, reader is a softer girl so if you don't like that, scroll, Steve and Dustin are very ooc so...keep that in mind. Let me know if there are any more! each chapter will have more specific warnings <3

Summary: Steve wasn’t always like this, he used to be kind, and caring, and he used to call you every night. But now? He barely calls at all. Most of the time it’s you calling him. Or you visiting him…Or you planning dates…He’s just really busy at the moment…That’s it. That’s gotta be it…Right?

2.3k words

The next morning, you all head back to the cabin with some food for Eddie. When you push open the creaky door, it swings wide, and Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s pacing the small, cramped room, eyes darting like he’s expecting trouble at any moment.

“Jesus!” He yelps, stumbling backward, clutching the wall to steady himself.

“Delivery service!” Dustin calls out, trying to lighten the mood.

You give Eddie the good news and the bad news; the bad news is the police are 100% convinced he killed Chrissy. The good news is his name hasn’t gone public yet. For now, at least. Then you explain the plan: find a way into the Upside Down and kill Vecna. The problem? There’s no way into the upside down, no gate, no girl with superpowers. So...You’re still stuck in the brainstorming phase. Everyone’s trying to piece it together. Everyone except you. You’re just there, hovering, waiting.

Suddenly, sirens wail in the distance, growing louder as police cars and ambulances speed past the cabin window. Everyone’s eyes follow the flashing lights. Everyone except Eddie, who jumps back under the tarp in the boat, disappearing from view.

This is not good.

You follow the sirens, pulling up at the police tape. You see Nancy being questioned by police officers, her face serious, skittish. Steve climbs out of the car, his eyes locked on Nancy’s with a look full of longing, worry, and something heavier, regret, maybe. Your heart cracks at the sight.

You stay in the car for a second longer than the others, your chest feels tight, like something invisible is squeezing your ribs together. You watch Steve watch Nancy, the way his gaze softens, the way his brows furrow with worry. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. It’s not for you.

You snap out of it, climbing out and forcing your feet to move. The road is covered in cops and medics, all talking over one another. Robin nudges your shoulder as she walks by. “You okay?” She murmurs, her eyes flicking toward Steve, then back to you.

You nod quickly, lying. “Fine.”

Robin doesn’t push it, but she stays close.

You all end up at the trailer park. The air is thick with horror and tension. That same yellow police tape flutters in the distance like a frayed ribbon, stretched and tugged by the wind, a quiet reminder of how quickly everything has unraveled.

They find a battered picnic table in the middle of the park. It creaks when you sit, the wood sun-bleached and splintered beneath your fingertips. A distant dog barks. Everything feels just slightly off. Like something’s here.

Nancy crosses her arms and leans forward on the table, her brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?”

“If the shoe fits.” Dustin mutters, trying for casual but not quite landing it. His voice is quieter than usual. “Our working theory, is that he attacks with some kind of spell. Or a curse.”

You tune out after that. The words turn to noise, muffled like they’re underwater. Your eyes drift to the police tape blowing in the wind, to the crushed soda can half-buried in the dirt, to the way Steve’s arms are leaning on the table, his jaw clenched like he’s trying not to say something.

You wonder if he even notices you're not speaking. If any of them do. 

You all start heading toward Steve’s car, but Nancy suddenly veers off, slipping toward her own.

“Whoa, whoa, Nance. Nance! Where are you going?” Steve calls after her, jogging to catch up.

“Oh, there’s just something I wanna check on first.” She says, glancing back.

“Something you wanna share with us?” Dustin pipes up, eyebrow raised.

“I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s a real shot in the dark.”

“Yeah, okay. Are you out of your mind? Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? No way. You need…” Steve hesitates, then steps closer to her, chucking his keys towards Robin. “Here. I’ll stick with Nance. Take the car, check out the shrink.”

You watch him. The way he doesn’t even look in your direction. The way he steps beside her, like it’s muscle memory. Familiar. Natural.

Robin scoffs. “Don’t think you want me driving your car.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a license.”

“Why don’t you have a license?”

“I’m poor.”

Max offers, “I can drive.”

“No, never again. Please. Anybody but you. No.”

Dustin pulls a face, and Steve points at him. “No chance.”

“Come on.” He groans.

“All right, okay, this is stupid,” Robin cuts in, stepping forward. “Us ladies will stick together. Unless you think we need you to protect us?” She smirks. “Come on, [Y/n/n].”

You look between them, between Steve and Nancy. He’s still standing too close. Still not looking at you. You force your legs to move and fall into step beside Robin, giving her a nervous smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Be careful.” He shouts after you.

“Just gonna stand there and gawk, Harrington?” Dustin teases.

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t we go? Okay?”

“Shut up and get in the car. Wipe your feet. On the outside, not the inside.” Steve whines, shaking his head.

“Always the babysitter. Always the goddamn babysitter!”

All three of you walk up the steps to the entrance of the Hawkins Public Library, the stone underfoot worn smooth from decades of use. Robin is rambling as usual, words tumbling out of her like they’ve got a mind of their own. Nancy, a few steps ahead, looks deeply uninterested.

“Okay. Help me get this straight.” Robin starts, hands flailing with each word. “Eddie's uncle, Wayne, thinks that Victor Creel escaped from Pennhurst Asylum and that he's the one running around Hawkins committing these murders?”

“Pretty much.” Nancy replies, curt.

You hang back a little, your hands stuffed in your pockets, letting them talk. Robin filling the silence, Nancy slicing through it. You feel like background noise.

“But Victor committed the eyeball murders, like, way back in the '50s.” Robin adds, eyebrows raised.

“Well, '59…” You speak up, voice quieter than theirs. “Sorry, my grandpa used to tell me stories…”

Both girls glance at you for a brief second. Robin nods, Nancy doesn't react at all before the conversation rolls on without missing a beat.

“So, that means these murders predate Eleven and the Upside Down by about 30 years?” Robin asks, pushing the heavy glass door open.

“Yeah.” Nancy says, stepping inside.

“Which makes spooky Victor Creel like, what, 70 years old?”

“Yep.” Nancy strides toward the front desk and rings the bell with her finger.

“So he’s a grandpa murderer who can turn invisible and lift people into the air.” Robin mutters, clearly skeptical. 

“It doesn’t make sense. I know.” Nancy’s jaw tightens. “That’s why I said it was a shot in the dark.”

Robin frowns. “I know. I just thought that by ‘shot in the dark,’ you were being modest or hiding something super solid up your sleeve that you were gonna wow us with later. But this is really, truly a shot in the dark. Like, we are snipers with blindfolds on who’ve been spun around 50 times.”

Nancy rapidly rings the bell again, jaw clenching.

You glance between them, your throat tightening a bit. You feel the tension, the push and pull of two strong personalities, but also that quiet realization that you’re just… there. Walking behind them. Watching it happen.

“Coming!” A voice calls from the back. The librarian appears moments later, arms weighed down with books.

“Hi. Sorry,” Nancy says quickly. “We’re in a bit of a rush. Could we get the keys to the basement archives?”

“Of course. Give me one sec.”

As the woman disappears again, Robin turns toward Nancy, worry flickering across her face.

“Did I come off mean or condescending or something?”

“No.” Nancy replies coolly.

“Right. Sorry. It's just, you seem annoyed. You don't know me well. I don't really have a filter or a strong grasp of social cues.”

“Okay.”

“If I say something that upsets you, just know that I know it's a flaw. Believe me, my mother reminds me daily.”

You blink, surprised by her honesty. It makes you ache a little, how easy it seems for Robin to just say things. To get them out. You wish you could do that, say what you feel, ask if anyone notices you fading into the background. But you don’t. You stay quiet.

“Got it.” Nancy says.

The librarian returns, holding a ring of jangling keys. “All right, ladies. Here you go. Have fun.”

“Yep.” Nancy snatches the keys. “We’ll try.”

Robin flashes a quick, uncertain smile, then heads for the stairwell. You descend the creaking basement stairs, the smell of old paper and mildew thick in the air. Nancy walks ahead with purpose, already scanning the dusty rows of archive cabinets. You linger at the bottom step, hesitating.

Robin slides up beside you, nudging your elbow gently.

“Is she okay?” she whispers, jerking her chin toward Nancy, who’s pretending not to hear.

You shrug. “Not sure. I’ll talk to her.”

Robin gives you a long look, quiet concern flickering in her eyes, the kind that means she sees more than she lets on. “I mean, it’s not just her.”

You blink at her. “What do you mean?”

Robin tilts her head. “You’ve been off, too. Like… I don’t know. Kinda ghost-y.”

Your throat tightens. You look away, pretending to study a stack of untouched newspapers. “I’m fine.”

Robin doesn’t press, but her silence says enough. She knows you’re lying. And the worst part? She actually cares.

“Okay, she’s in.” Steve murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, watching Max enter her councilors house.

“Missing collarbones, not eyes… So, we gonna talk about… it?” Dustin’s voice breaks the silence, sharp and teasing, but there’s a hint of seriousness underneath.

“Huh? Sorry, talk about what?” Steve asks, turning to look at him.

“Your temporary insanity earlier today. When you basically threw yourself at Nance?” Dustin says, eyes locked on Steve.

“Okay, first of all. That’s not what happened,” Steve snaps, but his voice lacks conviction.

“Pretty sure that’s what happened. It was public. There were a lot of witnesses.” Dustin adds, arms crossed, waiting.

Steve exhales sharply, the fight draining out of him for a moment. “Are you implying I still have a thing for Nance?”

“No. I’m not implying. I’m stating.” Dustin says flatly.

The air feels heavy now. Steve’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel, white-knuckled. “I have a girlfriend. I’m dating your sister!”

“And how’s that going for you?” Dustin’s tone softens, but it still cuts.

Steve’s chest tightens painfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, she’s like, super sad. It’s annoying. Doesn’t come out of her room. Pretty sure she was crying the other night-”

Steve’s jaw clenches. “Well, that’s not my problem-”

“She’s your girlfriend. Talk to her! My mom keeps asking me to talk to her, I can’t deal with it-”

“And she’s your sister! You talk to her!” Steve exhales heavily, voice low and strained. “Look, I was just trying to protect a friend. A friend, Henderson. Nancy is a friend, okay?”

Dustin nods, the tension slightly easing. “Okay.”

Steve looks away, gaze dropping. “I don’t wanna find her with her eyes sucked out of her skull by this Vecna creep.”

Dustin grins despite the tension. “You’re bright red in the face right now.”

“I’m not.” Steve’s voice cracks just a little. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll punch you so hard your teeth fall back out.”

“Whoa. Too far.”

“Not cool. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You and Nancy  both sit in the quiet hum of the microfilm readers, the glow from the screens casting soft shadows on your faces. Robin moves around the room, flipping through dusty books and scanning high shelves, leaving you both alone with the grainy images scrolling silently across the screens.

Between the clicks and whirrs of the machines, an awkward silence settles. You steal glances at Nancy, who seems lost in the shadows flickering over her face, her jaw tight, her eyes distant. 

“...How are things…with you and Jonathan? You okay?” You ask, voice low, hesitant.

Nancy glances up from the scrolling images, then nods. “Yeah! Yeah, we’re okay. Struggling with the distance but… we’re trying to make it work. How about you and Steve?”

You swallow hard, your fingers still on the edge of the reader. “I uh… I don’t know. It’s not—yeah. I don’t know.”

Nancy’s brow furrows with concern. “Oh… Are you okay? You wanna talk about it?”

You look away, voice barely above a whisper. “...It’s um... it’s whatever. It’s probably just stress and stuff…”

The words feel hollow even as you say them, the silence returning heavier than before, filled with everything left unsaid. The quiet tension breaks as Robin’s voice echoes through the archives.

“Hey guys!” She calls out, excitement clear in her tone. “I think I’ve found something!”

You trail behind Robin as you all rush out of the library, walky-talky pressed to her face. “Dustin, do you copy?” Robin calls out, voice urgent but controlled.

“Yeah, I copy.” Comes the quick reply.

“So, Nancy’s a genius. Vecna’s first victims date back all the way to 1959. Her shot in the dark was a bull’s-eye.”

You glance at Nancy, whose jaw tightens like the weight of the revelation is settling deep.

“Okay, that’s totally bonkers, but I can’t really talk right now.”

“What are you doing?” Robin presses.

“Breaking and entering into school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.”

You stop, blinking in disbelief.

“Can you repeat that?”

“Just get your ass over here, stat. We’ll explain everything.”

Nancy frowns. “Thought they were talking to Ms. Kelley?”

Robin shrugs, already turning toward the parking lot. “We leave them alone for two hours.”

You all pile into the car, adrenaline buzzing under your skin. Whatever this is, it’s far from over.

Taglist:

@answer-the-sirens @ashkuuuu @madaboutjoe @oatmealisweird @joeyugglakiller @teheabrams @criesinlies @lovers-111 @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

[iluvsanrio444]

╭┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╮

chapter two plot ⋆˚࿔ : A continuation from chapter one. Either Romance had heard over Huntrix and Y/Ns discussion on their sealing theory or hasnt, staying in the closet as Y/N wanted him to.

word count -> 4,051

#angst #slight-fluff #slightly comedic #movies-plot #context based

ʚɞ A/N: Thank you so much for the amount of support in the first chapter, I’m so glad you lovelies enjoyed it! I really appreciate all the support from you guys, TYY :3! I suggest reading this along with the songs i’ve put on here as it’ll bring more of an immersive experience, ENJOOYY!!

╰┈•┈୨୧┈•┈╯

Ever since that moment, the tension rises in your stomach the more it is prolonged. You knew that the ajar door to your bedroom meant one thing — Romance. The pinky was quite literally hiding in your closet. Rumi, Mira and Zoey were goofing off, impersonating each Saja Boys predicting how they’ll react to this theory they brought up. You openly wanted to just sit down and watch the others go to their shenanigans just to forget — even just for a second.

How much did he hear?

What’s this bastard thinking?

Am I safe?

Should I just tell them?

Fuck, many things spiralled into your head which just aggravated you even more. Taking a deep breath and trying to ease your tensed-up muscles now. A little jump was earned by Mira when she stood up like a bolt to impersonate Romance about his predicted reaction. You felt your intestines churning, twisting, and coiling, burning up with how much you thought Romance heard. You clenched your fists on your lap, trying to cloud out the panic and gut-wrenching tension, but you couldn’t swallow or breathe.

“Ugh!” Mira dramatically placed a hand on her forehead whilst both her legs crossed together. “No… we can't trust these girls... I—I love being a demon, Jinu! I don't want my hair to go!” Then her arms went to hug herself, being all in a swirling motion, — is she high or something? “I wanna stay as a demon; no, no, no! I refuse with all my..fibre.” The last word being more girly than ever, Mira flipped her imaginary hair, randomly locking in to shoot up heart fingers the entire time. Sure, it was playful banter between each other; it earned Zoey and Rumi to start dying, trying to catch each other to not fall from the couch… It even made me waver a small smile. Even though you were enjoying your time with the trio, you hoped they did wrap things up. The growing sensation of chillis being shoved into your throat made you struggle to breathe at a normal pace. Continuous side glances to your bedroom door that was still opened ajar. It got to your head that you even gave up waiting, knowing these three can go all night if they wanted to.

A clap whilst standing up, now looking at the three ladies, “I’m feeling really tired now guys.. I’ll—“ Cutting you off, Mira put her hand up and just did a swaying motion, “Yeah, yeah, no worries, girl. Go to bed.”

“Mhm go bed, Y/N; you must be tired!” Zoey followed along with Mira.

The smile you once had on, half-heartedly with the three, weakened. Your lips faltered almost to a frown, but the corner of your lips refused to fall, keeping up a small grin. Not to something truer, something more bitter.

No one was looking up.

Not even Rumi.

So quick to dismiss her with no worries. You shot a glance at Rumi, searching for anything; a flicker of acknowledgement, a sliver of care, maybe even a shadow of guilt? To no surprise, her eyes were fixed on her members, lit with loyalty you used to believe you were part of, your… own sister.

Yeah.

Maybe this was the real reason why you forced yourself to accept your helper role. The one who waited in the wings. Always watching the performance that you were supposed to be on.  You used to think you were part of Huntrix, part of the stage... part of them — but lately, it felt more like you were just the silence between their lines.

“Goodnight..?” You vocalised yourself more, heavier than a scream. No one answered. Greeted by their backs as your ‘goodnight’. You stood still, caught in that hollow pause before solitude fully settles in. In that moment a thought gnawed its way through your chest: do you truly deserve this just because you weren't...hunter enough—or to put it simply,

not enough at all.

Returning your back to theirs, too oblivious to know that Rumi had looked twice at you. Watching you. God knew what she was acting oblivious to.

Your room was quiet; a click sound echoed through the cracks in the walls. Too still for how your heart was beating, losing its pace. All the forced composure you had upheld dropped, the slumped shoulders following along before you turned your head. You hoped for whatever God there was; yet again, he was still in the closet. Just as you left him as. Your bedroom was only lit in certain corners, giving a warm ambience that would soon feel like eyes on the both. Taking a step closer whilst observing your room, your eyes locked on a crumpled origami heart. Sardonic, right? But the smile tugging your lips quickly faltered as your eyes began to adjust to the dimly lit bedroom. He was out of the closet. Romance stood there leaning against the glass-panel door with his arms crossed, a shadow draping across his softened features. You could've sworn you stood there frozen just admiring this man— demons.. face. Something caught your attention, though; his usual playful bitchboy glint was nowhere to be found. His normal demeanour fell off the more you gazed at him. His lips were no more than a firm line, evident to his now downturned eyes, almost like it was waiting for a heartbreak, waiting for that cue. You weren’t stupid; you knew why he was like this, doting back to the opened ajar door the entire time.

“You heard us… didn’t you?” You cut to the chase, your tone monotone and flat, cracking halfwaythrough. Just a moment ago you sounded at peace, but now..? Just because— just because of this demon bullshit?

He didn't answer right away, only answering with his body language. A slight quick nod. His eyes wavering to the floor, then to you, then back to the floor. Look at me damn it, you thought.

Similar to him, your gaze too faded away from him; a growing distance between each other only tensed in that same moment. Turning your body away as your hands made their way to squeeze your arms, holding yourself together if you just clutched enough. “How much, Romance?”

“All of it.”

“Why didn’t you just staye—.”

“How was I supposed to know that would be the topic, Y/N?”

“If only you just listened.. just once—.”

“Y/N.”

Desperately you turned your body to him again, eyes now widened, eyebrows upturned slightly. You wanted to say more through but Romance cut you off before you could, gritting your teeth until a deepened, hollow sigh came out.

“The plan makes sense, you know?” His voice wasn't teasing nor liveful. It was flat and hollow, like he himself had no person of his own.

He shifted from the glass-panel door, taking slow footsteps just to be closer to you. As if he was yearning for a moment of comfort, seeing your face was enough. Though his jaw clenched when he saw it this time, it was evident this was rotting you away; the facade moments ago was just relief, living in that moment with no worries, killing yourself inside. Instantly he changed his approach to one motion, like going up to a wounded animal.

��Seal the Honmoon. Starve Gwi-Ma. End it for good.”

A swallow filled with its own stones started to clog your throat, “And what, Romance?” Taking only one step closer, “What happens if it doesn’t work? To the others, t..to you—.” The ending you couldn't even finish without becoming a crying, hiccuping mess. Quickly retreating yourself to talk longer than that.

Hanging pause.

“..I dont……know.”

Crack.

Your hands now trembling from the heightened emotions starting to take over, fogging yourself. Taking another step closer, finally seeing face to face, “Then why so calm about it, Romance?! Why’re you acting like this isn't on your life on a thread, Roma—!”

“Because it is Y/N!” He shouted suddenly, which caused you to jump back, but you stood your ground and went face to face with him yet again. “It’s always been!” His voice cracked under the weight of everything, how he had to stand there the entire time listening to everything. Listening to what the girls had in plan. Listening to how even as hunters, they saw how their flaws weren’t all there was to them.

“Since the day Gwi-Ma spat us out like weapons for some stupid boy band! Since the first soul he shoved down my throat—I’ve never had a choice!”

Crack.

Taking in the shaky breath, how his eyes now glassy were fully on you, melting further into his emotions he once forgot when turned into a demon. “So what if it doesn't work? I can finally have a choice; I get to choose how it ends for me… even if I have to go so far by your hands— at least it was mine Y/-“

“No, no, — no!” You cut him off, tears threatening to strike your cheeks. From the tension being released, your hands made their way to his loose yellow blouse, grabbing it by the collar. “Don’t you dare say it like that!” Tugging him forward to your height, “You don't get to throw your life away like it’s nothing just because someone else decided you were a pawn!” Your voice raw, terrified and palpitating just as his was. Taking this as a signal, your hands retreated to your sides, and you even took a step back. Trying to get your breathing regular as you just choked back cries, which made it far more than a struggle trying to compose yourself. “Y/N.. wait.” Romance took that forward step as you backed away from him. Almost instinctively, your hand shot up

“Don’t—just… don’t come any closer.”

Crack.

“Y/N please…”

“Do you just take me as a pushover?! Do you really think I can do that?” Your hands now wiped away the once threatened tears now tainting your cheeks, “Watch you fucking disapp— for fuck sakes—“ the tears kept rolling down, so you had to look up for a bit before looking at him again. All the curses are now just spiralling everywhere. “Watch you get pulled into that seal if their plan doesnt work and never come back?!” By now you were yelling just enough to not alert the trio who were still bickering in the living room. You didnt care if your voice cracked each time you talked longer and longer, not out of anger but pure fear, “What do you take me for Romance? Do you know what that will do to me?”

The churns started to work in his head; Romance looked like he had just gotten slapped for no reason. His shoulders dropped now; almost their noses could touch by just an inch, his expression softening. “Weren’t we just a one-time fling, Y/N?” His voice was quiet to a near whisper.

Your shoulders flinched since you realised the amount of exposure of your feelings to him.

“Wasn't this something we’d joke about constantly? Until it faded? You never said—.”

“Because I was scared, okay?!” Your breath hitched trying not to sob it out, “Because you weren’t supposed to mean anything. You were the enemy. You were supposed to be a demon I hated, not—” your mind shutted it down, and you forced yourself to shut up. Not everything. Not the only person who saw you in a crowd full of stars. Not the one who you always looked around for. Romance just stared at you, silently, yet everything seemed to signal to you that he already knew as if he’d been hoping to hear it but dreading it too. All the risks.

“I should hate you,” you whispered, softening the more you spoke. “I should.”

“But you don’t, Y/N.”

You shook your head, lowering your gaze from his. “No. I don't. That's why this plan.. Rumis plan..” Just then your body rejected all doubt; your trembling hands slowly went close to his jawline as your eyes followed the same direction. Not touching but close enough to be grateful you even got this close with him. “It can’t include you,” to a whisper filled with relentless pain, your eyes softening as it flickered left and right like it was trying to remember everything about him one last time, “It can’t, Romance.”

Immediately, Romance decided to give up the forces that urged him to stop himself just like you, his hand clasping the same hand next to his neck, placing it on his cheek. “What if it’s the only way? Everything has risks Y/N..”

“Then we’ll find another…” you snapped back, the desperation only growing, drilling into your head. “Who knows what can happen? We’ll find a better way i promi—.”

“Y/N—“

“No!” Pulling him away now, the same distance reoccurring as you backed away, “No,” you whispered, blinking through the tears trying to urge out. “I already know what it’s like to be invisible. To be standing behind everyone, unnoticed, unloved…”

“But with you, I didn’t feel like that. I can’t go back to being alone in a world where you were once real and then gone.” Now the tears came down; you didn't care to wipe them away, nor did you care if he saw this side of you. Your fists balled up so tightly that the tips of your fingers turned white and cold. “You made me feel like I was worth something,” the other hand placed on your chest as you choked out. “You looked at me like I wasn’t just someone’s shadow, and now you’re telling me you’re okay with vanishing? Even if it was just a mere risk, that mere risk can flip everything Romance.”

Romance stood there, staring like he was watching the world crumble beneath your feet infront of him — he was the one who pushed you that far, he knew. His lips parted slightly to say something, but nothing came out. The still silence surrounded the two. You couldn't help but not care anymore, just trying to compose yourself yet again from the highs in these emotions, wiping your tears whilst taking deep, hollow breaths. All romance could do was stare at you, shattered infront of him but carrying yourself back up. Fuck, he hated that. Every ounce of fear slammed at him like some wave he couldn't swim out of, only to be dragged the more he moved.

Crack.

For a moment he hated himself for not looking like his usual self; all the tease and bitch-boy attitude drained out of him. But then again — he never known what it meant to be loved like this let alone the thought of it. The reason why his name was Romance, the reason why he became a demon, the reason why Gwi-Ma managed to manipulate him into another of his pets. Yearning to be loved by someone. He finally got it yet in the worst case scenario. “God Y/N..” he whispered low enough that it could pass as a simple exhale, his voice now hoarse, “Why’d you have to say all of that…?” He ran his fingers through his pink hair now losing its heart shape, a bitter laugh clawed its way from his throat, quiet, and broken. “You’re making me scared now.”

“I was ready to disappear, Y/N, if it meant you could live in peac—“

“Please, stop.”

“Y/N..I thought I was ready..” his voice cracked yet again as he took a step forward to you, hoping you didn't back away moments ago. Fortunately, you didn't; you stood still just wanting to hear him. He was always teasing, frisky, funny and flirtatious, but now? This was the reality of him, the side he was afraid to show anyone, let alone when he was a human.

“But now you’ve gone and made it impossible,” he whispered. “Because now all I can think about is… what it’d feel like to hold your hand when this is over. To laugh about all of this, just once, without a knife in our backs or a plan hanging over us.” He took your hand again, the same hand that hesitated to go near his jawline, the same very hand that grabbed him by the collar, the same hand that you pulled him closer.

“Just you. Just me.”

“You made me want a future that I don’t know how to survive long enough to have.”

He pulled back slightly to catch every single corner of your face, admiring it like he always did before where your dumbass would scowl at him in response or a scoff, ‘That guy's so weird ugh..’ that small flashback made him smile a bit, seeing the same person underneath him tear stained cheeks, ice melting eyes, the raw emotions. You. Just you.

“So I’ll fight beside you, even with the risk… I’ll be right by your side Y/N.” He lowered himself to your height again but more lower than usual, placing your hand onto his cheek.

A breath.

The final crack in his tone.

“Because I don’t want to die anymore.”

In the midst of this moment, the constant back and forward arguing, you just wanted it to stay quiet for a bit. You didn't pull your hand away nor did he push you away, both contempt with just the feeling of desperation. Your breathing not staggering more than before, the other hand now cupping his face. Nothing came out of your mouth, nor did you even think of anything. Everything went black on your side. His eyes searched yours, not for answers, but for something to hold onto. Something real. Following your lead he also held the other hand, both your hands and his intertwined randomly together. He hesitated to speak first considering how you took account of his mouth, parting and closing slightly.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in a soften whisper, hearing laughter dying down in the living room.

“Tell me I mean something to you Y/N.” His eyes now sparked fear— but not any kind of normal panic, fear of rejection. “please, I need it..” He was crouching by now, on his knees looking up at you. Tears now trying to pressurise before letting loose. That explained the way he looked at you, how he opened up to his true self to you. Your eyes flickered between his gaze and something  signalled that he should stop, take it back before anything.

“I'm sorry that was stupid—.”

“I cant.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t tell you that Romance.”

Taking a deep quivering breath whilst looking up trying to seep the reforming tears from staining your cheeks any longer, “Because if I say it.. and… and this plan doesn’t work.” The more you spoke, the more your eyes softened, the more intimate and careful your touch was to him, your fingers wiping few tears that escaped from his eyes, “I—I don’t know how I’ll keep breathing if you go after I say it.”

Romance didn't react nor responded right away, his eyes staring up at you, your hand still on his, his still on yours. Everything was trembling at this point. He blinked once, slowly, the tears you previously wiped away just came back more worse. His lips quivered and parted obviously trying to get his words out before anything could be misunderstood, but his voice caught in the back of his throat. A small “agh” left his mouth instead, taking a few deep breathes he got back up from his knees now looking down at you, his hands still clasped on yours not letting you pull away even if it was just a second. You feared he misunderstood the entire perspective with your reply, just like anyone would. How you always went out of the way to understand both side on a more spiritual level, more enough that you fully believed that no one can really get to that same level. Even as a kid. Seeing how he got ready to respond, you closed your eyes expecting a response that was twisted, mistaken, filled of assumptions even the thought of it made you flinch a bit.

“Hey, hey look at me Y/N.” One of his hand that once clasped yours went to your jaw causing one of your hand to drop down to your side. His hand gently pulling your head back up, instinctively opening your eyes, however your gaze never met his, flickering constantly anywhere in your bedroom other than his face. “Please.” The one plead made you fold instantly after everything that had happened, it was only natural.

“I know now why you cant Y/N, dont beat yourself up for it.” He gave a breathless chuckle, one that held no humor, just bare. “Until the day you can say it, I'll stay by your side. Even with this theory Rumi planned out, alright?”

You blinked a few times, surprised that he actually understood what she tried to say. Not even twisting it to his narrative; rather, he made it to where it was together.

Knock.

Another knock?

“Y/N..?” It was Rumi.

Your eyes darted to the door back to him, pulling away from him and sniffing up your blocked nose wiping the tear strikes. “I’ll best leave, huh?” Romance tried to soften the mood still; even with Rumi at your door, a simple tap on your cheek before he went to your balcony and exited.

“Look, text me if anything happens.” You were silent and unresponsive, “Please.” You grabbed the origami of the heart, but there were two from before, giving him one back and keeping the other. That alone said enough to him.

Seeing him leave via your balcony, you placed the origami heart in your drawer before opening the door now. A sheepish Rumi. Normally you would greet her with a smile, but after everything, your eyes drooped and reddened to the point where Rumi mistakened it for lack of sleep. “Holy shit Y/N, I—I’ll make this quick, I promise!”

“Just hurry it up.”

“Are… are you and Romance like—“

For gods sake. Face palming yourself and even running your fingers through your already messed up hair, “Do you know what time it is Rumi?” You peeked your head through your door just to see Mira and Zoey doing their dumbass couch time, “Mira.. Zoey?!” They both cranked their heads to you, “Oops..” the two girls said in unison before slanting to their shared room.

“Look, Rumi.” Taking a long sigh and turning your head to her, “I’m tired; just cut to the chase.” Rumi straightened herself a bit, hesitating more than she thought she would in the first place. “Okay, okay,” she placed her hands up in surrender.”

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop on you both Y/N, I noticed the way you were acting off and i heard some slight banging from your room. I was just coming to ask if you were okay… but.. i heard you. And his. Both your voices.” Relentless exhales made their way since your head was already fogged enough. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms now crossed, head tilted to the side. “So?”

“It scared me Y/N.”

“Since when did you care Rumi.”

“What?”

“Stop acting like you give a shit alright?!” You placed a hand on your forehead, trying to soothe the growing numbness in your head. “I'm sorry—I didn't mean to say that.. just listen alright?”

“Y/N—“

“Please just listen.”

The tone in your voice only grew more frustrated; it almost made you laugh seeing how she came up to ‘worry’ about you. Did she really think some simple half ass excuse would just turn your tables and act like it's fine yet again from back then? You were too tired and drained out mindlessly.

“I’ll tell you what happened tomorrow, okay? You and Jinu. So just please... leave me alone.”

You didn't bother to hear her response knowing your ears picked up the faintest ‘what,’ before thudding the door shut. Locking it again with a faint clink. After that you made your way to your bed and practically flopped yourself face first onto it. Turning yourself side ways slightly whilst your gaze drifted to the drawer, where the last origami heart waited.

Still there.

Still intact.

But god, how it ached just to look at it.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Helping Hand

Content: Non proof-reader; Android! Caleb + Overstimulation + Fake cum + Size difference + Dacryphilia + Praise kink + Aftercare

Summary: You chose to buy one of those new androids in the market, after all, with the little time you had, it was logical for you to get one! But after your birthday party, you can't help but feel like something has changed within Caleb...

Note: I'm finally done with exams but now my brain is dry... On another note, I have to keep on writing my novel! It has nothing to do with my usual work here, but I really should keep on writing cause I have so much ideas for cool characters! Wish I could draw them... I hope people get the ideas of how Android! Caleb lower half works...

Note 2: I just put some fake nails and writing has become so difficult... Had to use two pens towards the end...

Android! Caleb who opens his eyes and encounters your face. He was programmed to be cold, always following the orders of the person who bought him. At least, that was what he had learnt, as you soon rebooted his whole system, changing his personality to a softer and more "human" one. He is still quite confused, why would he need to have a personality for serving a human? Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange rush of electricity run through his system, maybe he had a strange type of malfunction?

Android! Caleb who becomes accustomed to taking care of you. He is always close to you, always waiting by the door of the house a few minutes before your arrival, food still warm and waiting for you to eat, the house completely in order from him cleaning it... Gosh, you could even feel all the tension leaving your body as soon as you entered your house. You allowed him to carry you to the bathroom, head resting against his soft chest as you let him undress you, letting your clothes carefully folded as he helped you get inside the lukewarm bath.

Android! Caleb who becomes your only caretaker. It took him less than a few days to get completely used to your body language, knowing exactly what you wanted, when you wanted it and even how you wanted it. He was basically reading your mind, always one step ahead, letting you rest your exhausted body on his bigger body, his soft hands caressing your hair as his mechanic heart kept pumping the blue liquid all over his system. You knew you shouldn't get so attached to him, but how were you supposed to stop yourself from it when he knew you like the palm of his hand?...

Android! Caleb who receives a strange update. It had recently been your birthday, so you decided to make a small party, nothing big, really. You invited a few of your friends from work, together with some other friends from when you were still studying, organising a small party at your house for all of you to drink and have fun while watching some low-quality films. It was around 3:00 when you started to feel your eyelids dropping, with your friends too focused on the climax of the film for them to notice, you chose to simply fall asleep in the cozy sofa, surely someone would wake you up sooner or later, right?

Android! Caleb who becomes much more... domestic. You didn't notice the first few days, still unaware of the strange update your friends had added as a "gift" for you. Yes, it was a bit strange for Caleb to always greet you with a hug and a kiss on your forehead, but hey, maybe it was something that they had added in one of the millions of updates Caleb had, maybe some client had complained about them being too stiff? Whatever, it wasn't as if you were particularly concerned about it, in fact, you did like it a bit...

Android! Caleb who finally puts his update to good use. It was late at night when you suddenly felt the urge to do it. It wasn't something particularly strange, with you being alone most of the time and all the stuff you liked reading and listening... What was strange was the moment the door to your bedroom was knocked. You quickly hid your naked lower half with the sheets trying your best to get your phone to hide the content you were seeing. "Caleb?" You whispered, heart beating rapidly in fear of having been discovered by him. "Pips? I'm sorry for disturbing you so late at night, but my systems have warned me that my owner, that is you, is currently in need of my assistance." You furrowed your brows, slightly confused about what was he even implying, still, you knew Caleb was unable to cause any harm to you, so you simply sighed, letting him enter without much thought. "So what was wrong, Caleb?" Caleb smiled, sitting close to you and petting your hear with his rough hands. "My system told me you needed my help, do you need it? I have been upgraded with the latest system, allowing me to help you in this kind of delicate activity." Still confused, you simply nodded, after all, the system tended to be right. As soon as you did so, Caleb removed the sheets that were covering your body, his huge hands lifting your legs with ease, getting them closer to your face, just enough for your slick pussy to be in front of his face.

"Caleb! Just-- Just what are you doing?" You tried your best to get him to let go of your ankles, squirming around with not much luck, with Caleb still retaining his sweet smile.

"I'm fulfilling my new tasks, you allowed me to do so." Caleb's arm moved, changing his grip on your thigs to keeping your body in position with just his arm. "Now, no more moving, pips, I need you to remain calm so I can help you appropietly." Caleb's tongue stick out, this time looking slightly longer than usual, his right hand making his way to your entrance as his mouth got closer to your clit.

"Wa--Wait a second! I'm pretty sure this was NOT included when I bought your model--!" Caleb stopped for a second, his expressions remaining as sweet as always.

"It wasn't. Your friends added it to my program in hopes of making you happier, they explained it to me and I agreed. I believed it would truly help you destress. I hope I will actually ." Caleb moved closer, spreading soft kisses all over your lower tummy, making a small path towards your pussy. At the same time, his hands started to glide towards your entrance, teasing it with his fingers by simply gliding up and down on it but never actually inserting them, simply coating his fingers with your lewd fluids. "Let me know if you feel any discomfort." Caleb's mouth slowly got closer, wet kisses being left around your clit as a way to tease your sensitivity, being unable to not smile after seeing your back arch from the sudden touch. Following the set procedure, Caleb slowly entered one of his fingers, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue and making you cling to the sheets, soft whimpers leaving your mouth even despite you tried to cover your mouth with your hands as a way to avoid letting even more shameful sounds escape. Suddenly, one of Caleb's hands moved, grabbing your wrists with ease and pinning them on top of your head. "I need to hear you so I can know exactly what you need." Caleb moved, his face now facing yours before diving himself into a deep kiss, his right hand still playing with your clit, making short circles around it regardless of your poor attempts of squirming away.

"Ca... Caleb! Too much-- it's too much!" You whispered, chest puffing up and down as you tried to recover from Caleb's kiss.

"My name is not the safe word, you should probably know that." Caleb suddenly switched positions, letting your back rest against his chest, his legs tangled around yours to avoid letting you try to close your legs, his lips kissing yours as he moved one of his hands to your chest, playing with your nipple as the other hand kept slowly moving inside you, searching for that sweet spot until you let a whimper escape you. "This must be your g-spot, right? Gotta make sure you enjoy this." Caleb kissed your face, peppering soft kisses all over your face as he slowly introduced another of his digits, his fingers constantly hitting that spot even as you kept trying to move away from him, with Caleb simply laughing softly against your ear, pushing his fingers even deeper inside. "You're so cute... Humans always react so vividly to the stimuli..." You could't help but feel embarrased, with Caleb's mocking tone reverberating inside your head as he kept forcing you to cum around his fingers, using his other hand to pinch and twist your nipples with just enough force.

It had been over 20 minutes since your sweet torture had begun, with Caleb moving and hitting the exact place you were craving, forcing you to close your eyes from the overstimulation. "Caleb~... That's enough... I don't think I can cum more..." Your voice sounded now raspy from all your whines and moans, with Caleb obviously ignoring them, simply cooing you.

"That's alright, then we can finally move to the main course, right?" Caleb finally let you move a bit, getting up and removing his trousers, leaving them on your chair before returning to the bed. "Let me syncronise my tools, alright?" Suddenly, Caleb's lower half changed from the usual plain surface to the shape of an erect cock, his . "Let me just..." Caleb got on top of you, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, moving his hand to grab his cock and starting to rub it against your entrance, letting some of his self-lubricating fluid just for extra caution. "I'll do it slowly, open wide now, pips." You took a deep breath as Caleb's cock entered you, softly biting against his shoulder as a way to stay calm. "Such a good girl... Just a bit more." And you could simply whine, your insides already feeling as if they were about to tear as Caleb finally bottomed out. "So good for me..." Caleb caressed your cheek, kissing your forehead as he started to move, barely moving a few centimeters before pushing back in, nails digging on his back as he kept pressing his body against yours. "Just a bit more... It will feel so good in just a few minutes..." Caleb pressed your mouths together, sucking on your tongue before starting to french kiss you, a strand of saliva connecting you both the moment the kiss ended.

As the minutes passed, you were finally able to get used to his size, the slight discomfort changing into pure pleasure, making your eyes roll back each time he rubbed that spot. "You feel so nice wrapped around me... Let me help you a bit baby." Caleb lifted your body with ease, laying your body on your front before moving back on top of you, his cock entering you, the pressure of his weight making you bite on the pillow that was close to you, whinning as Caleb's hand made light pressure on your lower stomach, just enough for you to start feeling his length even more, each thrust making your walls wrap around his cock, the system of Caleb slowly getting overheated each time you clenched around him. "Be careful... My system may get a bit overwhelmed if you keep clinging so much to me..." That was of course easier said than done, after all, it had been such a long time since you had been able to feel so good... Still, you tried your best, taking a deep breath and hugging your pillow, a few tears falling down your cheeks as you felt your mind slowly slipping away.

"Too big... You're crushing me~..." You whined, the heat radiating from Caleb mixed with the feeling of having your insides scrambled being enough to make your head feel overwhelmed. Regardless of that, Caleb kept going, his hips bumping against your ass each time he forced his whole length inside you, his hands petting your hair whole he whispered soft praises against your ear.

"So good... Cum all around me pips, show me just how much you're enjoying this..." Caleb's raspy voice echoed inside your mind, the embarrasment of having your own android seen you so fucked dumb suddenly leaving, letting you only focus on how much you wanted Caleb to praise you... So of course you did just as he asked, your gummy walls pulsing around his cock as you felt a warm liquid filling you up, forcing you to cum for who knows what time, toes curling as you felt Caleb increasing his rhythm at the same time you came, then slowing down as he felt your breath become even heavier.

After letting you recover your breath for a few minutes, you felt Caleb lifting you up from the bed, carrying to the bathroom with ease and letting you rest inside the warm bathtub and using a soft towel to scrub you, removing all the sweat together with the mixture of his cum and all your fluids. He then left for a few minutes, returning with a huge towel, wrapping your whole body around it before taking his sweet time drying it. After that, all you could remember was te warm embrace of Caleb, mixed with the fresh smell of a new set of heet together with the citrusy smell that emanated from him.

[peasack]

Lowkey wrote this while I was on a road trip with my family and felt like I had to write this. My nephew kept trying to take my phone but luckily he got scolded by my aunt.

Hope you guys enjoy!!!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Road Trip Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei Shostakov ✦

Thinks he’s the natural driver.

Immediately calls shotgun driving duty but is actually a terrible driver (way too fast, overconfident, has beef with GPS).

Blasts Russian rock music the entire time.

You’ll have to fight him to connect your phone to the aux.

Eats loud snacks and leaves crumbs everywhere.

“Alexei, stop eating like a raccoon.”

“I am fueling the machine!”

Stops at every weird roadside attraction.

“Come, come! Look, world’s biggest ball of yarn! Very important!”

Annoys you by trying to give long-winded life advice while you’re just trying to nap.

But secretly it’s sweet because he just wants to bond.

✦ Yelena Belova ✦

Definitely takes the aux and plays absolute bangers.

Half chaotic Russian pop, half dark indie playlists. But she’ll let you DJ sometimes.

Brings the best road snacks.

You’re covered in chips, candy, and energy drinks thanks to her snack runs.

Forces everyone to stop for photo ops.

She takes thousands of pictures, mostly to embarrass Alexei and John, but she gets cute ones of you too.

Relentlessly roasts whoever’s driving.

“Wow, John. Amazing. Truly a masterclass in missing the exit.”

Terrifyingly fast but somehow never gets pulled over.

✦ Bucky Barnes ✦

Prefers to drive to avoid motion sickness.

Grumbles about it but he’s actually the safest driver in the group.

Keeps the windows cracked because everyone else’s music is ‘too loud.’

But he secretly bobs his head to your playlist.

Always has gum, water, tissues—he’s weirdly prepared like a tired dad.

Falls asleep immediately when he’s not driving.

You and Yelena take funny photos of him napping with his arms crossed.

Ever since Alexei put the wrong kind of gas in the car he insists on paying for it. Anything to Prevent it from happening again.

��� John Walker ✦

Takes driving way too seriously.

Hands at 10 and 2, obeys every road sign, will lecture Alexei about seatbelts.

Plays dad rock playlists.

“John, please, no more Bon Jovi.”

“You need culture, kid.”

Pulls over for every bathroom break even if you just stopped 10 minutes ago.

“If you gotta go, you gotta go. Hydration’s important.”

Takes WAY too long at gas stations.

After 2p minutes he'll just comes back with 7 Gatorades, 4 granola bars, and a car air freshener.

He’s weirdly sweet about making sure you’re comfy.

✦ Bob Reynolds ✦

You wouldn't expect it, but he's the most chaotic passenger.

Constantly changes the radio station and loses his phone under the seat every 5 minutes.

Terrible navigator.

“Wait, was that the exit? Oh, my bad.” (He’s done this like 3 times now.)

Keeps talking to you about random stuff out of nowhere.

“Hey, do you think clouds have feelings?”

“Bob, what?”

Brings homemade snacks that are actually delicious.

Loves those deep, late-night road trip convos.

He's not really one to sleep in the car, so he'll just watch the trees pass by as he stares outside.

✦ Ava Starr ✦

Sleeps through half the trip, sunglasses on, headphones in.

Somehow always wakes up just before an exit to give perfect directions.

Doesn’t pack snacks, but steals everyone else’s.

Steals your chips, denies it, then steals more while looking you dead in the eye.

Will just sit in silence with you, watching the trees go by. You simply enjoy each other presence.

Gives you her jacket when the AC’s too cold. Buys you meds if you get carsick.

Will absolutely call shotgun and then fall asleep instantly. “Wake me up when we’re there.”

Hope you guys liked this one, cause I loved writing it.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Requests are always open! <3

[beaviu]

wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ — sjy

⋆˚꩜｡ 003 :: mr basic

ʚଓ m.list — prev — next

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

As yn stepped into the café, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her, immediately grounding her in the cozy atmosphere. Her eyes scanned the room until she saw a guy who could potentially be her future boyfriend, sitting down alone cap on and head down on his phone

Approaching the table, she noticed the empty seat across from him.

“Hey, Intak, right?” she asked with a shy smile.

Jake looked up from his phone, his cap blocking his view and the top half of his face “i think you—“ but before he could finish, the barista’s voice cut in, calling out his order number.

“Oh, you already ordered?” yn said, a little flustered. “Was I that late? I'm so sorry.”

Jake stood up, waving off her apology. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just grab it real quick.”

As he walked toward the pickup counter, he couldn’t help but glance back at the girl now settling into the seat across from where he'd been. Something about her—maybe the way she looked around with quiet curiosity or the slight smile still on her lips—made him suddenly okay with this unexpected meetup.

Walking back with his drink in hand, Jake spots yn sitting at the table, eyes glued to her phone, fingers flying across the screen.

“Hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he sits down, “everything alright?”

yn glances up, her expression shifting quickly into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry—my friends are being annoying as usual”

Jake chuckles, lifting his cup. “i understand that”

yn nods silently then asks “what’d you order?”

“oh an iced americano”

She raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Wow. Basic.”

jake gasps, clutching his chest theatrically. “Basic?! Excuse you, this is the superior drink. Sophisticated. Timeless.”

yn laughs, shaking her head. “Okay, Mr. Basic, whatever you say.”

Jake grins, watching her for a moment before saying, more softly, “You know… you have a really pretty smile.”

Her laughter slowly fades as her cheeks flush with color, and she opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. “I—” Jake quickly leans back, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry. That was too sudden, wasn’t it?”

“No!” she blurts, voice higher than intended. “I mean—no, it’s fine. Just… unexpected.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s not awkward—just warm. Comfortable.

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes still on her and breaks the silence. “So... you gonna tell me your not-so-basic order, or is it a top-secret recipe?”

“I don’t know…do you really deserve to know?” yn teases, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Jake raises an eyebrow, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Wow, fine,” he sighs dramatically.

yn chuckles, then stands up. “Let me order it first, and then I’ll show you a visual representation,” she says, flashing him a smile before heading over to the counter.

The café’s quieter now, so she waits for a few minutes, picks up her order, and walks back to Jake. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she says, an exaggerated pout on her face. Then, with a proud grin, she holds up her matcha latte like she’s unveiling a trophy. “But look at my glorious baby!”

Jake eyes the drink, nodding appreciatively. “I’ll admit, it does look pretty good.”

yn laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she offers him a sip. “Wanna try it? I promise you, it’s the drink of champions.”

Jake grins, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine. My iced Americano is superior.”

yn gasps, putting a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “No way! My drink outshines yours in every way!”

Jake rolls his eyes with a playful grin, then decides to switch things up. “Alright, random question. What’s your favorite color?”

yn chuckles, clearly amused. “Navy blue, I guess?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a teasing smile. “Hmm, navy blue. Interesting... You’re a uni student, right?”

yns expression shifts, slightly suspicious. “Yeah, I am. Why? You’re not gonna sell my info on the dark web, are you? I’m starting to get worried now.”

“oh cmon i would never do that to you” jake says batting his eyes playfully. yn rolls her eyes playfully “please you just met me”

After about 20 minutes of easy conversation, filled with lighthearted jokes and shared interests, yns phone suddenly starts buzzing incessantly. Jake glances at it, eyebrows raised, and chuckles. "I think you might want to check that? Seems like it’s blowing up."

YN lets out a sigh, a bit embarrassed, and smiles sheepishly. "I’m so sorry, I have no idea why they’re all blowing up my phone. One second let me hop into the ladies room!" she rushes to the bathroom and opens her phone to see a spam of messages from the gc all spamming her name.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ authors note — hehehhehe nd the plot thickens! sorry for the shitty writing I’m still kinda rusty it’s been awhile 💔

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